


Bloody Torchwood

by NoScrubs12345



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, Welsh!Remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoScrubs12345/pseuds/NoScrubs12345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black knew there was something he didn't like about Cardiff. He just didn't expect it to be a rift in time and space. But, once taken, will he be able to make it back to the wizarding world? Or will he be stuck with bloody Torchwood if his friends don't find him first? And what does a mysterious blonde woman have to do with the strange blue box hidden inside the Department of Mysteries?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, I'm not going to lie. This fic has been finished since about two weeks after Children of Earth aired. Between taking a hiatus from the Torchwood fandom, RL being a bitch and working towards my degree at uni, I haven't had time to post it. It's been my baby, so here I am, sending it out into the world. Hope you enjoy!

“Mam wants us back by five,” Remus said and licked his ice cream before it could drip onto his fingers. “Aunt Lyneth is coming for dinner.”

Sirius groaned and stopped by a bin. “Can’t we say we’re ill?”

Remus sighed, half-expecting Sirius to stamp his foot like a toddler. “No. Mam wants you on your best behaviour this time.”

“So I said your auntie had a nice moustache.” Sirius shrugged, though he couldn’t help the way one side of his mouth turned up. “What’s the big deal? You’d think she’d shave it once in a while.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Because that wasn’t very polite, Padfoot.”

“Well, it's true. And she started it,” Sirius grumbled, eyes growing wide as a bright white light took him by surprise. It surrounded him, and he tried calling out for Remus, but he didn’t seem to hear him or even see the strange light, the daft bugger. 

“I don’t care who started it,” Remus called back, licking his ice cream cone. “She’s still my aunt—she doesn’t care about my problem and I want you to be nice. All right?”

He stopped when Sirius didn’t answer.

“Sirius?”

He was no longer behind Remus when he turned around, nothing but his half-eaten ice cream and the shopping bags he’d been carrying strewn on the ground.

“Not again. Real mature, Padfoot!” Remus called and, making sure no Muggles were around, muttered, “ _Accio_ Sirius!”

When Sirius didn’t come shooting out of the bushes or from behind the nearest bin, Remus started to panic.

***

“Rift activity in Bute Park,” Ianto said, leaning into Jack as he wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Looks like it might be a negative spike. And just when the Rift was starting to calm down.”

Jack sighed and kissed Ianto’s neck.

“I think it’s trying to spite us,” the captain said and laughed when Ianto rolled his eyes. “First those Hoix at three yesterday morning, now this. I do like to sleep sometimes.”

“We should probably go check it out,” the Welshman said, pulling away from Jack.

Jack stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. He kissed Ianto’s neck again, grinning as the man shivered. “Can’t we finish here first?”

“Rift now, sex later,” Ianto said. “They may need medical attention. I’ll get the kit, you call Helen. Let her know we might be bringing someone in.”

“All right then,” Jack said dejectedly, pecking Ianto on the cheek before moving towards his office.

“I’ll meet you at the SUV,” Ianto called with a chuckle.

“I can think of better things to do in it,” Jack shouted back, grabbing his greatcoat from his office.

“I bet you can,” Ianto muttered with a smile and made his way to the autopsy bay.

He watched Jack pull his mobile out of his coat before he disappeared into the pit, trying to ignore the green apron folded on the table and the dark spot on the floor he couldn’t seem to scrub away not matter how hard he tried as he gathered some small things for the SUV’s first aid kit.

He hoped it wasn’t going to be a long night. A quiet night in with Jack was much more appealing than a trip to Flat Holm.

***

The first thing Sirius noticed when he came to was that it was dark out.

“Bloody Cardiff,” he said, clutching his head as he sat up. Why Remus insisted on living there, he couldn't quite figure out. 

“I know the feeling,” an American voice said from somewhere off to his right.

He went for his wand and stood quickly, regretting it as his head swam and stomach lurched. His legs felt like jelly. _Brilliant_.

“Who are you?” he croaked, squinting at the two men in front of him in the pale light of a full moon. A full moon he knew was still two weeks off. “And what the fuck is going on?”

He raised his wand and watched as the men shared a quick look, their right hands going to something on their belts.

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness,” the American said, “and this is Ianto Jones. We’re here to help you.”

Something seemed odd about Harkness—he recognised that coat from Muggle Studies. It looked like it was from the 1940s, but it couldn’t be. It was 1979, so why was he dressed like a soldier from the Second Great Muggle War? “Where’s Remus? Why do I need your help?”

“Who’s Remus?” the other man—Ianto? Odd name, Sirius thought, but, really, who was he to complain?— asked. His accent was thicker than Remus’s and Sirius felt his heart skip a little beat before quickening its pace.

“My boy—” he paused for a moment to clear his throught and gripped his wand a little tighter. “My friend. I was just with him. Where is he? What have you lot done with him?” He didn’t want to mention the fact that it was a full moon, didn’t want to _think_ of the danger they were in if Moony was somewhere in the area and they didn’t know about the werewolf.

“When?” Harkness asked, stepping closer with a frown on his face. The eyes that met Sirius’s looked far too old to be set in such a young looking face

Sirius felt his arm lowering as he stared back at Harkness, and raiesed it again. He blinked, pointing his wand the American’s chest. “Just now. Where is he? What’s going on?”

“What year? I need to know what year.”

Sirius saw the other man pull something shiny and metal from his belt. He swung his wand towards him and caught a metallic glint in the moonlight as Harkness pulled his own weapon and trained it on Sirius.

 _Damn_. What was it with Americans and guns? “This year.”

“Which is?”

Sirius gaped at him. He had to be joking. “1979! Are you thick or something?”

Harkness’s eyes widened and he shot another look at Jones. Sirius caught the confused look that passed across his face and his hands started to shake. Something strange was going on. Why were they so surprised? It wasn’t like everyone just walked around not knowing what bloody year it was, was it? 

“You’re going to have to come with us,” the American said and stepped closer, one hand reaching out to Sirius. “Could you lower you weapon, please? We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Tell me what you’ve done with Remus first,” Sirius said, wincing as his voice cracked. He didn’t need to let them see his weaknesses, to give them something they could use against him.

“No doubt he’s safe back in 1979.”

Sirius let his wand fall a fraction of a centimetre. _What the hell...._ “What do you mean ‘back in 1979’? I just saw him! It’s still 1979!”

“There’s a Rift in space and time running straight through Cardiff,” the American said, one eyebrow rising and head tipping to the side. “It brought you here.”

Sirius vaguely wondered why he wasn’t as surprised as he should be by that. Only in bloody Cardiff.... But just to make sure, he asked, “Where’s ‘here,’ then?” 

“Cardiff. 2008,” Harkness said matter-of-factly, meeting Sirius’s eyes once more. His face was set, but there was something almost apologetic in his eyes. For some reason, Sirius believed him.

“How is that possible?” he said and let his wand fall to his side. No point in resisting if this was some silly dream. Or if he was going mad. And he really didn’t want to get shot—it always looked so _painful_ in Muggle films.

“It’s...complicated,” Jones said and Sirius turned to him with a glare. He was holding that shiny little box in one hand while he pointed a handgun of his own at Sirius with his right. Maybe not just Americans then. “If you’ll come with us we can explain it to you. Maybe help you locate Remus if you’d like.”

Sirius studied him as the man smiled in what he thought must have been reassurance, though he didn’t lower his gun. Even if he didn’t believe what they were saying, Sirius didn’t like his chances; it was two against one, even if the men did have Muggle weapons. He didn’t think he could react quickly enough if one of them decidied to pull the trigger. 

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, eyeing them sceptically.

“We can help you get home,” Harkness said. Something in his voice made Sirius doubt that he was telling the truth, but if he really was in the future, maybe they could tell him what happened to Voldemort and the Order. If they succeeded or what he could change if they hadn’t when— _if_ —he got back.

“Fine,” he said and looked between them. “Just answer me one thing.”

“Sure,” the American said and smiled tightly. 

“Who are you?” Sirius asked, meeting his eyes. 

Harkness grinned—a real one this time that made Sirius nervous with its intensity—and looked at Jones, who returned his smile as he holstered his gun. Turning to Sirius, they said, in unison, “Torchwood."


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s Torchwood?” Sirius asked and pocketed his wand as the park started to spin.

“We are,” Harkness said. “We’re here to help you.”

“So you’ve said. But what do you _do_?” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the nausea that was threatening to overtake him.

“That’s not important right now.” Harkness met his eyes and Jones— _had there always been two of them there?_ —raised the little metal box, pointing it at him and moving it up and down. 

“What’s that?” Sirius asked, feeling himself begin to sway.

“Scanner. Completely harmless,” Jones said and frowned. “Jack, I think we’d better get him back to the Hub as soon as possible. These energy readings are more than a bit off.”

Sirius vaguely wondered what a Hub was and what energy readings were before his knees gave out and everything went dark. 

***

“Of course he was with me!” Remus shouted and stopped his pacing in front of the fire. 

“All right,” James said, his head flickering in the emerald flames as he nodded. “You think it was the Death Eaters?”

“What else would it be?” Remus took a breath to steady himself. He crouched down the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do we do, Prongs?”

“You said you didn’t see anything. Are you certain of that?”

“We just went for ice cream and cut through the park.” Remus sighed, staring at the his knees. “We were going on about dinner at my mam’s tonight—we were going to be late if we didn’t Apparate back soon. I turned around and he wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t hear, see, or smell anything out of the ordinary.”

“You’re sure you’re sure? No one following you? Nothing that might have been suspicious?” James frowned up at him as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“James, as far as we know our own grandmothers could be Death Eaters.” Remus rolled his eyes as James raised an eyebrow. “Well, maybe not yours. But, no. No one was following us. One of us would have noticed. The wind picked up for a moment before he disappeared, but that’s nothing. And I think I would have—along with everyone else in Cardiff—seen a great big Dark Mark hovering over the park if there’d been one.”

“Hmm,” James said. “There’s only one active cell in south Wales that we know of....They could have had something to do with it. They could have gone against Voldemort’s orders and attacked without following protocol.” 

“So Alastor said.”

“You called Moody?”

“No, I was going to tell the Muggle coppers a rogue bunch of wizards possibly abducted my boyfriend,” Remus quipped. “Who else should I have called? My patronus came back when I tried to contact Dumbledore.”

James sighed. “He didn’t mention anything when Longbottom and I bumped into him in the lift this afternoon. Though he did seem too busy muttering to himself about ‘those imbeciles in the Department of fucking Mysteries’ at the time. Did Moody tell you anything about if that and whatever happened to Sirius could be related?”

“Just that he’d look into it,” Remus said and bit his thumbnail. “And that he thought Sirius was just having us on. But…James?”

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t feel like an attack. It would have been bigger—someone would have taken credit for it. We’d know by now if he was dead, wouldn’t we?”

James looked over his shoulder and Remus heard a door close in the background. “I don’t know, Remus. Look, I think it’s time we told Dumbledore. I’ll meet you at the Three Broomsticks in half an hour.”

Remus nodded. “What about Lily and Peter?”

“There’s no point in worrying them right now,” James said. “Peter’s been off and Lily’s got morning, noon and night sickness like you wouldn’t believe. Let’s just see if Dumbledore knows something we don’t and then we’ll tell them if we have too.”

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

James nodded resolutely. “We’ll find him, Moony. Even if it kills us.”

Remus half-smiled as the flames flared, bathing the small room in an emerald glow. 

_Even if it kills us._

Things never went well when someone tempted fate like that.

***

“He is rather handsome, don’t you think?” Jack said as he pulled Black’s weapon from his limp hand and held it out to Ianto.

“If you go for the whole Gary Oldman meets Jim Morrison thing.” Ianto took it and held it up in the moonlight. “What do you reckon this thing is?”

“No idea.” Jack pulled Sirius’s wallet from his back pocket. “Some funny sort of coins, possibly alien...condom... some old pieces of paper...and a motorcycle driving license. Sirius Black—London—just gone twenty in his timeline.” 

“Is he all right?” Ianto frowned. “He looks fine, but those readings were off the scale.”

“Time travel without a capsule can be a bitch if you haven’t got the right equipment.” Jack looked up at Ianto and grinned. “Do you think Helen would believe us if we said he was radioactive?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow, shuddering as the breeze picked up. “I believe she might think you were having her on at first.” He paused. “You don’t think he is, do you?”

Jack studied the unconscious man for a moment before handing the wallet to Ianto, who bagged it along with the wand. 

“No more so than Banana Boat, I hope. We’ll get him settled at Flat Holm and let them look over him just in case; if he is then we’ll just have to bring him in. Otherwise we can take a look at those energy readings first thing tomorrow.”

Ianto sighed and checked at his watch. “It’s going to be another long night, isn’t it?”

“We can come in late,” Jack said and lifted Black with a groan. “Heavier than he looks.”

“Need any help?” 

“I’ve got him.” Jack gave him a strained grin and started walking back to the SUV.

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Are you sure we should leave Gwen alone in the Hub yet?”

“She’s a big girl,” Jack called back. “She can take care of herself. Besides, who says she’ll be there in the morning either?”

Ianto chuckled, jogging to catch up with Jack. “I take it this wasn’t what you had planned for tonight?”

“Nope,” Jack said as the SUV came back into sight. “I was rather hoping for a nice quiet dinner at home.”

“‘Dinner’ wouldn’t be a euphemism, would it?”

“Am I that transparent?” 

“When it comes to sex, always,” Ianto said, hurrying forward to open the door. “I’ll get the space blanket.”

“You love it,” Jack teased and eased Black into the back seat. He smiled at Ianto as he handed him the blanket from the boot. “Thanks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sir.” Ianto returned his smile as Jack laughed quietly and shivered against the wind. 

Jack tucked the blanket snugly around Black and sighed as he took a step back when he finished. “What are we going to tell him when he wakes up?”

Ianto took Jack’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “We could always tell him he’s been injured and hallucinating about the future. Maybe play some Bowie for effect.”

Jack poked Ianto in the side playfully before slamming the door shut, careful of Black’s feet. “You’re being unusually cheeky tonight.”

“I’ve been up since this time yesterday morning chasing aliens through half of Cardiff. I don’t think that nap I had in the Archives this afternoon constitutes a good night’s sleep,” Ianto deadpanned and let go of Jack’s hand. “I have a right to be a little more ‘cheeky’ than usual.”

Jack smiled, leaning in for a kiss. “We’ll get him settled and then we can go home and sleep. Sound like a plan?”

“Just sleep?” Ianto asked, stifling a yawn.

“Disappointed?”

“Maybe.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and absently traced Ianto’s jaw with his thumb. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll let Helen know we’re coming,” Ianto said, already pulling out his mobile as Jack slid behind the wheel.


	3. Chapter 3

The was a slight chill in the Hogsmeade air that made Remus pull his cloak tighter around himself as he walked towards the Three Broomsticks. The streets felt too empty without students flitting from shop to shop, chattering about Zonko’s latest product or who they had seen with who through Madam Puddifoot’s window. It felt odd and there was a charge in the air, the scent of ozone oppressive to Remus’s senses; he shivered as he passed a slur of graffiti on one of the boarded up shop fronts.

Remus quickened his pace, hurrying past an alleyway before darting across the street to the Three Broomsticks. He threw open the door and ignored the shrunken heads as they cajoled him about his hair cut, or, rather, his lack thereof. His eyes searched the pub, empty besides Madam Rosmerta behind the bar. She looked up from her copy of _Witch Weekly_ when the door slammed shut and smiled at him. An advertisement for Lupo Cattivo Cosmetics stared up at him from the magazine as he walked towards the bar.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” she called, lowering the magazine and holding her place with a finger. “I haven’t seen you in here since...well, since I don’t know when.”

Remus faked a smile as he shrugged out of his cloak. “Things have been a bit busy. James isn’t here already by any chance, is he?”

Rosmerta frowned, looking at the door hiding the staircase to the upper floor. “He stormed in here a few minutes ago with Dumbledore. Seemed a bit off, though. Is everything all right? He and Lily didn’t have another row, did they?”

“No. Some things have just come up with work.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. “Are they upstairs?”

“I've put them in number three.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This isn’t Order business, is it? I could maybe pull a late dinner together. I’ve got some shepherd’s pie in the kitchen. If you wanted, that is.”

Remus smiled at her and draped his cloak over his arm. “That won’t be necessary, Rosie. Make sure we’re not disturbed, yeah?”

Rosmerta sighed. “No one _to_ bother you with business the way it is. I’ve hardly had any customers at all these past few weeks.”

Remus stared at her, shocked. “I thought you always did well during the summer holidays? Tourism being what it is and all.”

“So did I,” she said and went back to her magazine. “Ever since that _thing_ just appeared out of nowhere on the high street everyone’s been scarce.”

“What thing?” Remus felt his heart skip a beat. “When did this happen?”

“I dunno what it was,” Rosmerta said, looking out through the window into the street. “It was some sort of big blue box. It felt like something was wrong with it.”

“Wrong how?” Remus frowned, wondering how a box couldn't "feel" right, when a bright blue light flashed across Rosmerta's face and winced as a noise like thunder clashed outside. 

“Just...wrong. Like it was in pain. Grieving, almost.”

He followed her gaze and saw a woman running out of the alley across the street. She was blonde, dressed in jeans and a purple jacket, and there was something about her that made the wolf howl and rage inside him. He watched as she looked down the street, eyes darting as she appeared to gather her bearings. He felt his heart beat a little faster as she looked through the pub’s window. He shuddered as she looked away and took a step off the pavement. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and Remus quickly turned back to Rosmerta. 

“What happened to it?” he asked her. 

“Some blokes from the Ministry came. Unspeakables, I think. They seemed an odd sort,” Rosmerta answered absently. “Said it was something to do with You-Know-Who and took it back to London with them.” 

“Then why isn’t anyone out?” Remus said and looked up as the pub door opened, sending the shrunken heads into a frenzy about Muggles as the blonde entered.

“Too scared, I suppose.” Rosmerta gave the woman a polite smile and stood, tucking her magazine under the bar. "I'll be with you in a minute, love." Turning to Remus, she said, “It just feels like something else is out there, like something’s coming.” 

“What’s coming?” Remus asked and looked back at the woman as she leaned against the door.

“The Darkness.” Rosmerta shook herself and gave him a small smile as she pointed at the stairwell. “Number three. Don’t keep them waiting. If you need anything, let me know.” 

Remus nodded at her and turned on his heel. As he moved towards the staircase, he saw the blonde move across the room to the bar.

“Now that’s something I’ve heard before,” he heard her say and squeezed his eyes shut as gold light and strange music fought to fill his mind and overpower him like the moonrise. He hand to reach out and brace himself against the wall to keep from falling. 

Remus ignored the strange sensations and stumbled up the stairs onto the landing. He took a deep breath to collect himself, and, with a sigh, tucked his cloak against his chest and strode to number three on legs that felt like jelly. His raised a hand and knocked three times in quick succession. 

***

Jack groaned as one of their mobiles ringing cut though the room. He turned over and muttered an apology at Ianto’s stifled “oomph!”

“Don’t answer it,” he said as he felt Ianto shift beside him. “It’s too early.”

“It’s half ten already,” Ianto said, poking Jack’s shoulder. He whimpered as Ianto shifted away to flick the lamp on. “And it’s not my phone.” 

“Fuck it.” Jack nestled further down into the duvet and scooted back into Ianto’s solid warmth beside him.

He tried not to grin at Ianto’s exasperated sigh. 

“What if it’s important?”

“They’ll call back.”

“Like you said the palace would?”

Jack sighed in relief when the ringing stopped. “I still say Charlie boy could have called Archie if was that important.”

“Of yes. I’m sure he could have.” Ianto rolled his eyes. “Only you would try to pawn the Prince of _Wales_ off on Glasgow.”

“Ianto, that’s beside the point. Anyway, he got—“ Jack started, only to be interrupted as the mobile started to ring again. He moaned and pulled the duvet over his head. “Why me?”

“It’s not like you’re the boss or anything,” Ianto said, deadpan, and rolled his eyes again.

“I don’t know why people keep assuming that.”

Ianto grinned and shifted under the duvet, pulling it closer to his chin. “You going to get that?”

“Tell them I’m not here.”

Ianto drew in a breath and mentally counted to three before pressing his cold feet to Jack’s backside.

He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing as Jack yelped and sat up, scooting as far away from Ianto as he could. 

“Jesus, Ianto! What’s under there? Ice?”

Ianto chuckled, admiring the view as Jack got out of bed and started to search through the clothes on the floor for his mobile. 

“The guy I’m sleeping with is a cover hog,” he shrugged, tucking his feet under him and pulling the duvet around himself for effect.

“Brat,” Jack said and he pulled the phone from his trouser pocket. He flipped it open and ran a hand through his hair as he raised it to his ear. “Harkness.” He paused and grinned as the person on the other end of the line said something. “Now that’s no way to say hello, Helen. What can I do for you?”

Ianto leaned back against the headboard and absently picked at a loose thread on the duvet as he watched Jack move to the chest of drawers. 

Ianto nodded his thanks as Jack tossed him a pair of boxers briefs. He threw the duvet aside as he climbed out of the bed and quickly slipped the underwear on. Jack turned back to the drawer and Ianto rolled his eyes as the man took a pair of briefs from the bottom of a pile, leaving the others askew. He didn’t miss Jack’s shoulders tensing as he slid the drawer back in and stood up straight.

“The Devil’s what?” he said and met Ianto’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

Ianto walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, chin resting on his shoulder as Jack listened to Helen. 

“Give us half an hour or so,” Jack said and Ianto tightened his grip on his middle. “We’ll be there.”

Ianto watched Jack as he rang off and angrily flipped the phone closed. The man let his head drop back onto Ianto’s shoulder, hands resting on top of Ianto’s.

Ianto shifted to kiss his temple. “Who?”

“That kid we picked up last night.” Jack took a deep breath and slowly let it out. 

“What’s happened with him?” Ianto asked, loosening his arms and taking a half-step back.

Jack squeezed Ianto’s hands. “You’re never going to believe this.”

"Try me."

“How much do you know about hell hounds?”


	4. Chapter 4

Helen met them at the jetty when they arrived, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Ianto felt Jack stop and stiffen under the glare and tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Jack fell into step behind him.

“Good morning, Helen,” Ianto said, nodding at her with a small smile. 

“I’m sorry to have to call you out here again so soon, Ianto,” she said, returning his smile. She turned to Jack and glared at him. “Jack Harkness!”

“Helen,” Jack said, sounding more than a bit like a petulant schoolboy. 

“I don’t whether to smack you or kill you,” Helen said, her voice even as she met his eyes.

Ianto bit his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

"Oi! What did I do? This time,” Jack added when Ianto cleared his throat.

Helen sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “That boy you brought in last night.”

“What about him?” Jack asked, tucking his coat more tightly around himself as the wind picked up. “You said he seemed fine when you checked him over last night.”

“ _He_ was,” Helen said archly, “but this morning when we went to check on him, he'd disappeared from his room and a big black dog darts out instead. One of my nurses said it was Black Shuck come to kill us all. The poor love locked herself in one of the supply cupboards until it was gone.”

“Gone?” Jack said and shared a look with Ianto, eyebrows furrowed. “When?”

“About eight. One of the doors malfunctioned. Blew right off its hinges, it did. Don’t ask how, because I don’t know,” Helen said, raising her hands when Jack started to interrupt. “They were working fine last night.”

“Where did the dog go?” Ianto asked, scanning the island for any sign of it. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to it if it had tried to swim the distance back to shore. 

“Aaron and Dafydd tried to catch it. They seemed to think it was hiding up near the farmhouse.” She sighed. “Poor love must have been so frightened. I don’t how long it’d been in that room or how it even got there. If this is your idea of a joke, Jack—“

“Trust me, Helen,” Jack said, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “it’s not. Is everyone all right?”

“It’s the most excitement they’ve seen in months,” Helen said. Her expression softened, and Ianto wondered if perhaps it would be a good idea to look into having a therapy dog come out to the facility. “I think most of them enjoyed watching us running about like a bunch of loons chasing it.” 

“That I’d have liked to seen,” Jack said and pulled a scanner from his coat pocket. “Ianto!”

Ianto turned back and fumbled to catch the device. He glared at Jack, who shrugged, before turning back to Helen. “The farmhouse, you said?”

Helen nodded. “That’s the last place anyone saw it.”

“Right, then,” Jack said as he did up the buttons on his coat. “We’ll see what we can do about it. Any sign of Black?”

“He just seems to have vanished into thin air.” Helen shook her head. “We searched the facilities and the island, but I called you when we couldn’t locate him.”

“Well, Ianto and I’ll have a look around and see if we can find one of them,” Jack said as he started up the rest of the jetty. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll let you know what we find.”

“You’d better,” Helen said. She gave them a smile before she turned and started back towards the bunkers. 

Jack watched her go, waiting until she was out of ear shot before turning to Ianto. “Anything?”

“It’s showing the same funny energy readings from last night up by the cholera hospital,” he said and frowned at Jack. “What’s going on here? Some sort of shapeshifter?”

“The readings did say he was human, right?” Jack asked as he pulled his Webley from its holster. He checked the cylinder, making sure it was loaded, and started towards the hospital.

“Yup,” Ianto said, fumbling with his own gun in its holster. “I guess the readings weren’t just residual Rift energy.”

“Just our luck,” Jack quipped, picking up his pace. 

They walked in silence past the ruins and scrubland, a few gulls flying leisurely overhead. Ianto looked around the island, watching for any movement or anything out of place. There was litter the gulls had scavenged from the city scattered around and amongst the nests. It was strangly peaceful, Ianto thought. He could almost feel the ghosts walking around it, past, future and present melding into one eerie Now that made his mind swim. 

He mentally shook himself.

As they approached the ruined hospital, their pace slowed and Ianto ran into Jack when the man stopped suddenly. 

“Hear that?” Jack asked, left hand raised as if to silence him and head tilted to the side.

Ianto listened over the gulls’ squawking. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he heard faint sobs drifting up from the ruins.

“Yeah.”

***

“Who is it?” James shouted from the other side of the door, drawing out the ‘o.’

Remus rolled his eyes and was tempted to say the big bad wolf looking for a Miss Hood. He thought better of it as the words sent a chill down his spine, his thoughts straying to the blonde woman downstairs. “Remus John Lupin, werewolf, Sirius Black’s long-suffering flatmate and a groomsman at your wedding.”

He took a step back as he heard the locks clicking and waited for the door to open. 

James was pale and his hair was more messy than usual when it swung open. He stuck his head out and looked down the hall before turning to Remus.

“Were you followed?” he stepped back for Remus to enter

“No,” Remus slid past James. He looked around the sparsely furnished room, eyes settling on Dumbledore in front of the window, one hand resting against the cool glass as he stared, unblinking, into the growing twilight outside. Remus thought he looked his age as shadows were cast on his face by the streetlamps outside. He turned when the door shut with a soft _schnick_. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Remus,” he said, “though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Likewise, sir,” Remus said with a sigh.

“ _Colloportus_ ,” he heard James mutter. “I’ll, erm, take your cloak, Moony, if you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Remus said and held out his cloak.

Instead of taking it, James grabbed his arm and pulled Remus into a tight, awkward embrace. Remus tensed, but after a moment let out his breath and wrapped his arms around him. He let his head fall against James’s shoulder as the man rubbed his back. His cologne was more musky than Sirius’s and his arms were thinner, and Remus fought against the prickle at the back of his eyes. James gave him a squeeze before stepping back and taking Remus’s cloak with a cough.

Remus watched him hang the dark material on a peg by the door and met his eyes for a moment before they turned to face Dumbledore. 

His expression was unreadable as he studied James then Remus in turn. “Have a seat, boys.” He pointed to the two overstuffed chairs in front of the empty fireplace.

“Aren’t you going to tell us what’s happened to Sirius first?” James asked and stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“All in good time,” Dumbledore said, a hint of the customary twinkle returning to his eyes. “There are some things I need to explain to you first.”

James nodded and Remus followed him to the chairs. As he sat, Remus had flashbacks to fourth year and being sent to Dumbledore’s office when they had been caught by Filch out of bed after hours with more Dungbombs than should have been legally allowed.

“Comfortable?” Dumbledore asked.

Both men nodded.

“Good. So, tell me, boys. What do you know about space-time rifts?”

***

He didn’t know where he was. The island was unfamiliar, but at least the salty breeze coming off the channel was better than the claustrophobic cell he'd escaped from. He honestly hadn’t meant to give the Muggles a fright, but then he hadn’t been thinking much besides getting out of that place when he came to. He had to be somewhere near Cardiff—he remembered cutting through Bute Park with Remus on the way back to his mother’s house and a flash of white light—but he’d been out for awhile and whoever had taken him could have easily moved him. And if he’d been taken by the Death Eaters, he didn’t even _want_ to think what had happened to Remus. He just hoped he had managed to get away and warn the Order in time. But…something didn’t feel right. Wouldn’t the Death Eaters have killed or started to torture him already? Subtly really wasn’t their style, unless this was some sort of new psychological experiment. 

He thought he could remember two men with guns from the park, but it must have been just a dream. After all, what would an American with a British service revolver and coat from what Muggles called WWII be doing in _Cardiff_ of all places if it wasn’t a dream? Or one of those Muggle B-movies Remus insisted on making him watch. Why would Voldemort’s followers suddenly change their _modis operandi_ ; they’d already struck fear into the wizarding community with. So what would be the point of them sending people pretending to be two very bad Muggle cops to scare him? Afterall, hadn’t one been wearing a suit? Wasn’t that a bit too James Bond to be real? 

But Remus was nowhere to be found if they’d both been taken, no one had been in contact with him to lord his capture over him, and the skyline he could just make out in the distance didn’t much look like the Cardiff he remembered. The distance was too far for Padfoot to swim easily and he couldn't Apparate without his wand, which was missing. 

He was cold and hungry and it looked like it was going to rain. He was alone in a strange place and wanted to go home. Back to London and his flat, where he could curl up on the sofa with Remus. He didn’t try to stop the sob when it escaped his lips. He hugged his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them and let the tears come. He knew it wouldn’t help him find a way out of this situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. If it was just all a dream, who cared if he had a nice cathartic cry in his own mind?

He didn’t know how long he sat there, snot, tears and saliva mingling as he sobbed, but his head snapped up as he heard the sharp sound of a gun being cocked.

“How about you tell us what the hell you are and we don’t shoot you?” 

The voice was level, cold and distinctly American. So much for it being a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

“Space-time rifts? You mean wormholes?” James said with a snort and, crossing his arms, settled into his chair. “Aren’t they just something Muggles made up?”

Remus glared at him. 

“What?”

Dumbledore chuckled as he crossed to the fireplace and leaned against the carved mantle.

“Muggles are much more clever than you give them credit for, Prongs,” Remus said with a roll of his eyes. Turning to Dumbledore, he added, “Professor Hartnell mentioned them in Muggle Studies once. He...seemed to find them a rather interesting, if somewhat ignored vessel for science fiction.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “I don’t suppose he told you anything outside the realms of fiction?”

“No, not that I remember,” Remus said, leaning back in his chair.

“Me neither,” James said. “You know how he is when it comes to Muggles—on about something one minute then off on something else the next.”

“Well,” Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling, and clapped his hands together. “What would you say if I told you they were real?”

“I’d say the Ministry would know about them,” James said and leaned forward in his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “I’ve never heard or read anything about them, though. There’s not much on time travel in the archives save time turners.”

“I’d expect not. The Department of Mysteries likes to keep quiet about certain things,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. “For example, the time fissure in the West Country. They covered that up with rumours of isolated hauntings and mass hallucinations.”

“And that has what to do with Sirius’s disappearance?” James asked. “Fissures and wormholes aren’t exactly something we have to worry about with Voldemort. At least not yet anyway. Merlin help us all if he got his hands on something he could use to change history.”

“Let’s try to remain optimistic, shall we? We haven’t lost the war yet.” Dumbledore regarded James over his half-moon spectacles. Clearing his throat, he shifted and turned back to Remus. “I remember visiting your family somewhere in the north of Wales when we were discussing the conditions of your education. I assumed your family was from there?”

“My tad was from Pembrokeshire originally. Mam’s from an old Cardiff family. That’s where she and Tad met.” Remus paused to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing. “We moved north again after I was bitten. But Mam moved to Barry last year after...after everything.”

Dumbledore inclined his head briefly. “I see. Are there any seers on her side of the family?”

“They’re Muggles. Nothing or nobody out of the ordinary save Mam and me.” Remus frowned. “I’m afraid I’m not following you, sir.”

“In some instances those with prolonged exposure to a rift in space-time can develop psychic or clairvoyant abilities. You’re sure there’s nothing?”

“Absolutely. Why?”

Dumbledore “hmmed” and stroked his beard. Outside the wind picked up, whistling through the village and rattling the shutters. “I was just curious.”

James snorted.

Both Remus and Dumbledore looked at him, the former with a glare, the latter a look of amused disinterest on his face.

“What? A time rift in Cardiff? How daft is that?”

Dumbledore chuckled and Remus groaned.

“I’m afraid it isn’t ‘daft,’ as you put it, at all,” Dumbledore said, and Remus could tell he was trying not to grin. “There’s one running straight through the city.”

Remus sighed. “Great. Just when I was starting to convince this one,” he pointed to James, “that Wales wasn’t as bad as he thinks it is.”

“I like Wales just fine, thanks,” James bit back, hiding a smile as Remus rolled his eyes. Turning to Dumbledore, he said, “But what does that have to do with Sirius?”

“Everything,” Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling. “Not only does the Rift spit things out from other times and places, it also takes things from the present.”

“People too?” Remus asked.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “People too.”

James whistled; Remus flinched at the high pitch. “Damn.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the headmaster said.

Remus cleared his throat. “So that means he could anywhere and anywhen?”

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Let me guess—there’s no way of knowing where or when he is?” Remus heaved a long-suffering sigh when Dumbledore nodded again. “So how are we supposed to find him?”

After a moment Dumbledore asked, “I assume you both keep up with the lunar cycles?” 

“Yes,” both wizards said in tandem. 

“Ah, good. Have you noticed anything different? Anything out of the ordinary? Sudden, unexplained astronomical anomalies? How about any changes in your transformations, Remus?”

“They haven’t been as bad,” Remus confessed and started to worry his lip. “I just assumed the potions I’ve been testing were working.”

“Kill yourself with those, you will,” James said, sighing. “I haven’t noticed anything myself, but there’s rumours floating around the Ministry that the stars are starting to disappear. It’s rubbish, if you ask me. Too many people smoking too much of something they shouldn't be.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Usually I’d agree with you, but I’m afraid this isn’t just hearsay.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, his heart beating faster. “What’s going on?”

Dumbledore first met Remus’s eyes then James’s before he pushed away from the fireplace and crossed back over to the window. The two wizards turned in their chairs to watch him.

“Albus?” Remus asked, cringing as his voice cracked. “Please. Just tell us.”

“It’s simple, Remus,” he said, his voice distant. “There’s something moving in the darkness.” 

He slowly turned to face them once again. “And it’s coming.” 

***

“Go ahead then,” the dark-haired man said, voice scratchy. “Shoot me. I don’t care. Just be quick about it, yeah?”

Jack opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. Frowning, he looked over at Ianto, who shrugged.

“What the hell are you?” the captain said and shifted his stance, gripping his gun tighter. “How’d you get out of the compound? Those doors are reinforced steel.”

Black laughed somewhat hysterically and Jack caught Ianto’s shudder out of the corner of his eye. 

“Like you’d even care,” the man said, voice breaking as he failed to choke back another sob. 

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I care about. Try me. Mage? One of the Trickster’s lot?”

“How do I know you won’t just shoot me regardless?” The man stiffened and looked up at Jack, his grey eyes steely. 

“Because right now I want to know what you are and what threat you pose. I don’t _want_ to shoot you,” Jack spat, keeping his gun level. “We can help you, if you want it. Before we can—and despite how we tried to last night—I need to know a little more about you.”

The man snorted. “Like what?”

“Lots of planets have had 1979s and there are lots of places called Cardiff on Earth besides those on other worlds. Which one are you from?” 

“You’re mad,” the man said, and he seemed to shrink into himself at the idea of different worlds. “As a bloody hatter. There’s no such thing as aliens.”

“The last person who told us that was one,” Ianto said and Black turned to look at him. “In fact, she was part of a sleeper cell gathering intel before launching an invasion.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, looking between Ianto’s gun and his stoic face. 

“Don’t worry, that happens _a lot_ in our line of work,” the Welshman said gently, as if talking to a small child. He lowered his gun, though he didn’t put it away, and crouched down in front of the young man. “We’re not here to hurt you, we’re here to help in anyway we can as long as you’ll let us.”

“Ianto,” Jack cautioned, frowning at him. 

“Jack,” Ianto countered, one eyebrow raised.

***

Sirius watched as they stared at each other, an intense, almost cold, look gracing the American’s face and one of calm indifference on the Welshman’s. He held his breath as they seemed to wage a wordless war with each other before the American sighed.

“Fine,” he said, looking away, and Sirius thought he saw Jones’s lips quirk up before he schooled his expression. 

He relaxed his aim, but still held his gun at the ready. “What planet are you from?”

Sirius looked back at Jones, who smiled at him.

“Answer the question,” he said, inclining his head. He bit his lip, but Sirius could still see the smile he was trying to hide. “He doesn’t bite. Unless you want him to, but I’m not quite certain he’s up to date on all his jabs. Best not to really. He gets ever so excited.”

Sirius’s eyes widened at Harkness’s—or whatever his name was; he could remember it starting with an H—lecherous grin in response. He wondered if he should be expecting a house to fall on him at any moment. He looked up at the sky, but had to blink furiously as a raindrop landed in his eye. Great. Rain was all he needed. Now he’d be not only cold and hungry but wet. 

“You know, I can make you talk if I have to,” the American said as if he was commenting on the weather. 

“If I said I was from Mars would that make you happy?” Sirius huffed and rubbed at his eye.

“Nope,” Harkness said. “Humans won’t colonise Mars for another fifty years, and you’re too cute to be one of the natives.” 

Sirius sighed and pulled his knees to his chest while Jones rolled his eyes. “I’m from Earth, 1979. I was born in London, grew up there, and went to school in Scotland when I was eleven. Happy?”

“Not really,” the American said. Sirius didn’t know if he wanted to cry or hit him. “That doesn’t explain how you escaped from the compound or why you seem to have an unusually high level of artron energy around you.”

“You’re wouldn’t believe me,” Sirius spit out. “Hell, if I was a Muggle, I wouldn’t believe me.”

“Muggle?” Jones said, his tone cautious. “What’s a Muggle?”

Sirius bit his lip as he studied Jones. It would be easy to lie, but Jones just looked confused. For half a moment he thought of knocking him over and making a run for it, but he had a feeling the American wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if he so much as looked at Jones the wrong way. Besides, if he was going to be stuck here and at least one of the men was making an effort to understand him without pointing a weapon at him then he might as well try to find an ally. In for a knut, in for a galleon. He cleared his throat and swiped at the stray tear that rolled down his cheek. “Someone non-magical. Someone not like me.”

He was sure Jones would be feeling whiplash later with the speed he turned to look up at Harkness. 

“Jack?” the man said, eyes never leaving the American’s face as he waited for him to say something.

Sirius could feel Harkness’s eyes on him, but he didn’t dare turn to face him. He screwed his eyes shut and waited for the man’s answer. 

“There’s no such thing as a magic,” the American stated after a moment, but there was something in his tone that suggested maybe he wasn’t quite sure. 

Sirius smirked, deciding to exploit that uncertainty. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’ve travelled through time and space with a man who could change his face, fought creatures worse than you could imagine, and lived through a year that never happened.” Harkness’s voice was quiet and even. “You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit unimpressed by things claiming to be ‘magical.’ Advanced technology and science just appears that way to unadvanced cultures. Clarke’s third law.”

“You took my wand, didn’t you?” Sirius asked after a beat as it dawned on him where it must be if these were Muggles. Clever ones, too, if they didn’t just think it was a fancy stick he had a sentimental attachment to. “I couldn’t find it when I woke up in that...that cell. I could show you some magic if I had it. Show you that it’s real and I’m not mad.”

“Wand?” Harkness asked and Sirius could imagine him sharing a confused look with Jones. “All we took was your wallet and a carved stick.”

“That’d be my wand,” Sirius said dryly. So much for being clever. “What’d you do with it?”

Jones cleared his throat. “It’s back at our base. There were some strange energy readings coming from it.”

“Of course there would be. It’s magical, isn’t it?” Sirius turned his head to look at the man. “This isn’t your base?”

Jones shook his head, and Harkness’s continued scowl seemed to confirm it. 

“Then where the hell am I?” Sirius yelled, causing a nearby gull to squawk and take flight. “You can’t just go around locking innoncent people up like that!”

“Jack,” Jones said with a sigh, looking up at the American. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to have this discussion?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sirius shouted before Harkness could reply. He turned to look at him, chest heaving and fists by his side. “Where the hell am I, what the hell is Torchwood and what the fuck are you lot going to do to me? I’ve got rights, even if I am your prisoner, and my friends’ll be looking for me if they know I’m gone by now. You say you want to help me—then fucking do something instead of waving that bloody gun around and help me get home. I have a life and friends I need to get back to! There’s a war on; they could die and I’d never get to say goodbye!”

Harkness’s eyes had widened but his mouth remained set, and Sirius wanted to hit him, to mar his stupid, handsome face. He didn’t care that Harkness could kill him if he wanted or that he may be hurting his chance to get back if what he and Jones were saying was the truth. Meeting Harkness’s eyes, his raised his chin. He could feel tears trickling down his cheeks, but he ignored them, steeling himself instead for whatever happened next.


	6. Chapter 6

Ianto waited, mouth agape and eyes fixed on Jack as he waited for him to react. The captain’s eyes were locked on Black and his hands were shaking as he lowered his gun. He swore, somewhat colourfully if he recongised Jack’s tone, in a language Ianto couldn’t place and shoved the Webley back into its holster. Drawing himself to his full height, Jack strode towards them. 

Ianto was impressed when Black didn’t cower under Jack’s best glare. 

“You need to know something,” Jack said evenly. “Don’t think I don’t know how you’re feeling. Don’t know what it’s like to be stranded someplace out of your time and not know what’s happening to your friends and family because I’ve been there and done that. I’d love to help you get back to you own time, but you’re stuck here unless you can use your ‘magic’ to control the Rift and get yourself back!”

“Jack?” Ianto called when Jack paused, voice unsure as he glanced between him and Black.

Jack snapped from his reverie and met Ianto’s eyes. He smiled softly and Jack deflated with a slump of his shoulders. Jack looked down at the ground, toeing a rock for a moment, and all Ianto wanted to do was stand and wrap his arms around him. He settled, instead, for leaning back into the hand Jack placed on his shoulder. Black stiffened and glanced warily between them.

“Look,” Jack said softly, not looking at Black, “you said you were in Cardiff with Remus last night, and if I’m not mistaken, you were going to say he was your boyfriend before you corrected yourself. Want to tell us about him?”

Black’s faced hardened, his grey eyes shining defiantly. Jack was right then. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not going to lock you up, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Jack said with a bitter laugh. As an afterthought he added, “Well, not for that anyway. I’d be a terrible hypocrite if I did. Hell, I shared a cell with Oscar Wilde once.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe a word he says, except that bit for being a hypocrite. Things have changed since the Seventies. If you find your friend, then we’ll be more than happy to help. Trust us on that.” He tried to give Black a reassuring smile, and he knew it became a real one as he felt Jack squeeze his shoulder. Black didn’t miss the motion and some of his anger seemed to leave him. “Now, you’re weren’t injured from coming through the Rift that we can tell, which is very unusual. Most of those it takes don’t come back intact.”

“What do you mean ‘Rift?’” Black said, looking between them. “I remember one of you mentioning a rift in space and time last night. That’s not possible, right?”

“It's just as possible as magic,” Jack said with a wide, shit-eating grin. “It’s exactly what it says on the tin. There's a tear in the fabric of reality, and Cardiff just so happens to be smack on top of it.”

“There’s got to be a better way to say that,” Ianto quipped, looking up at Jack. 

“Why? What’s the matter with it?” Jack returned Ianto’s look with a frown of his own. 

“It’s a bit...to the point,” he said, and turned back to Black. “We’re a top secret organisation who has to police it, which usually means chasing all sorts of aliens through Cardiff or picking up what rubbish it spits out. We should at least try to be a bit more, well, secret, don’t you think? Seems like we’re telling someone that every other week. I don’t think it’s going to be a secret much longer; I mean, ask most people about Torchwood and they point towards the bay.”

He could hear Jack’s sigh. “Clever, Ianto.” 

“I thought so, sir.” 

Jack gave his shoulder a final pat before he too sat down on the ground. “So,” Jack said, drawing out the word as he looked back at Black. “Tell us about this Remus? Maybe a last name? Whether he’s a cute as you are?”

“Why should I?” Black said, and he looked as if he didn’t know what to make of Jack’s last remark. “So you can lock me up again? Find him and lock him away too? Isn’t that what your lot does to wizards before burning us at the stake?”

“You want us to help you? That’s what we’re trying to do, but you need to help us a little too. You came through the Rift during a negative spike, which means it took something or returned something or someone previously taken, but you’re obviously not injured. Now that sounds _weird_ —the people the Rift takes and spits back out have been to hell and back, but here you are, good as gold aside from some possible head trauma because magic doesn’t exist!”

“What the hell do you want me to tell you anyway?” Black shouted, wrapping his arms around himself again and starting to rock back and forth. “You’ll just throw me back into that cell!”

Ianto felt Jack flinch beside him. Discreetly, he reached over and laid his hand on Jack's thigh. Jack sighed heavily and placed his hand over Ianto's. When he turned his hand to weave their fingers together, Jack gripped his hand tight, clinging to him. Maybe bringing Black to Flat Holm first had been a mistake, but it wasn’t as if there was anyone back at the Hub to do a physical exam, and who could know what the doctors at A&E would have done if he hadn’t happened to be human. “I’m sorry we brought you here. This place...this place isn’t a prison.”

“Well, it feels like one,” Black pouted and rested his forehead on his knees. “Those people back at whatever it is then…what’s wrong with them?”

“Like I said, they were ravaged by space and time when the Rift took them. They weren’t as lucky as you. They didn’t land somewhere safe, like Cardiff in another time, and were hurt or traumatised by what they saw. Here they can live out the rest of their lives in relative peace.”

“Oh.”

Ianto watched as Black frowned. “So that’s what you do, then? Make sure people are safe?”

Ianto cleared his throat, smiling at the man when he looked up. “You could say that. We do our best to make sure that’s the case. Sometimes things go wrong and we have to try to fix it before it gets too bad.”

Black seemed to think that over for moment before he raised his head.

***

Sirius had a feeling Jones wasn’t taking the piss. He stared past Harkness’s shoulder for a moment, eyes not really seeing anything as he thought. Maybe if he _was_ stuck in the future, Remus, James and Peter were waiting out there for him. Obviously, if these two Muggles were here talking to him, Voldemort didn’t succeed. He sighed, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him his friends could have died to win the war, and met Jones’s eyes.

“Can this Rift take me back home?” he asked. His heart sank when something passed over the man’s face. 

“It’s not impossible,” the American said instead, “but it’s very, very unlikely.”

Sirius nodded and let his gaze wander over the island. He flinched when a raindrop landed on his cheek and looked up at the gathering thunderheads.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, not looking away from the clouds as the first few heavy drops landed on his face.

“That depends,” Harkness said after a moment. “What do you want to know?”

Sirius looked back over at him, studying both his face and the Welshman’s before sitting up straighter. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“You can tell us how you got out of the bunker, for starters,” Jones said softly, meeting his eyes. They were sincere, and when he looked away his gaze travelled down to where the younger man's hand was entwined with Harkness's. 

Sirius let out a breath and decided to hell with the Statute of Secrecy. “Uncontrolled magic. If a witch or wizard feels threatened, he or she can use magic without a wand.”

“So, I’m guessing a wand simply channels the magic,” Harkness thought out loud. Sirius saw him take in a deep breath and hold it in for a moment before letting it out. “There are no ghost dogs in Wales.”

Jones coughed.

“That aren't associated with other ghosts,” Harkness added, “or that don’t look like something Sherlock Holmes should be chasing across the moors. Ianto?”

“Good enough, sir,” the Welshman called back. He grinned when he saw Sirius smile a little.

“Care to explain?”

Sirius glared between the two of them. “What if I don’t tell you?”

“Then we assume you’re a threat, take you back to our base, and then either lock you up or dissect you,” the American said, eyebrows raised, and Sirius shivered. He couldn't tell if he was joking. “Or you tell us the truth, we determine your threat level, and either take you back to base or back under to see how we can help each other. Your choice. I don’t really care. You see, we’ve had a pretty bad experience with shapeshifters recently and I’d prefer not to get the big gun out. But, still, it’s your choice.”

He could tell Jones was biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Harkness threw the man a Look and Sirius sighed. The pair were an odd one, he decided. He didn’t understand half of what they were on about. Perhaps they were feeling the say way about him.

Jones cleared his throat and looked back at him, nodding towards him. He sighed and rubbed his upper arms as another shiver wracked his body. “Some witches and wizards can turn into animals.”

“That’s not an uncommon assumption,” Jones said and Sirius felt his shoulders slump in relief.

Finally they were getting somewhere. He gave the Welshman a wry smile. “You’d be surprised. There aren’t many that can, and those who can are called Animagi.”

Jones returned the smile. “I meant it’s not unheard of. In folklore, you can tell a familiar--”

“So,” Harkness interrupted, head cocked to the side, “I’m assuming you’re one of those that can shapeshift, then.”

Sirius nodded. “I am.”

“And Remus?”

Sirius stared at the American’s boots for a moment before answering. “No. I became an Animagus to help him. He’s...ill. James, Peter and I thought it would help him if we did. It worked.” He ignored his voice as it broke. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jones asked quietly.

Sirius looked up at him and out the corner of his eye saw Harkness give the Welshman a strange look.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Sirius said simply and wondered if he imagined the phantom pain that flickered for a moment before it died behind the man’s blue eyes.

“You know, I’m getting tired of this ‘you won’t believe it’ shtick,” Harkness said curtly. “You’d be surprised by what _would_ surprise us.”

Jones rolled his eyes. 

Sirius rolled his own. “You won’t think I’m mad?”

“No madder than the rest of us,” Harkness said with a blinding grin. “Being mad is part of the Torchwood job description.”

“It’s really not my place to tell, but….” Sirius looked down at the ground, hands resting atop his knees. “He’s a werewolf.”

***

“‘The Darkness?’” James sing-songed as he leaned forward in his chair. “‘The Darkness is coming?’ What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Shut it, Prongs,” Remus said, shooting him a glare. “I think what James is trying to say, Albus, is what is the Darkness and what does it have to do with Sirius?”

Dumbledore didn’t look away from the window. “There’s something moving in it. Something’s coming.”

“As creepy as that is,” James said, “that means nothing to us right now.”

Remus started to worry his lip and turned to study Dumbledore. He looked his age—ancient eyes set in an ancient face—and his lips were pursed as he stared blindly into the night. He placed a hand on the cold pane, pressing against the glass; Remus shivered. He could feel the cold creeping in through the cracks around the window even though he sat next to the fire. 

“It means something is wrong,” Dumbledore started softly. “Very wrong. If the stars are going out, it means the end of everything.”

“And we’re sure this isn’t Voldemort’s doing?” James frowned. 

“Positive.” Dumbledore turned around and leaned against the window frame. “Voldemort doesn’t have enough power. This is bigger than the Dark Lord. In fact, I’d be surprised if he even knew about it.”

“So who or what is doing this?” Remus asked just as James opened his mouth. He quelled the small feeling of pride he got at that. “Are we fighting the wrong person?”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen so soon,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s out there, but that’s not important right now. Our main priority is getting Sirius back.”

“And how are we doing that, exactly?” James asked and ran a hand through his hair. “How do we even know where he is?”

“We don’t know anything, do we?” Remus added quietly. “If the Rift transports things through time and space, he could be on any planet and in any time, past or future.”

“What about a Time-Turner? We could go back in time and stop it from taking him, couldn’t we?” 

James’s voice sounded resigned to Remus. Reaching over, he gave his shoulder a squeeze. James just stared vacantly back at him. 

Dumbledore was studying a spot on the floor when they turned back to him. “I suppose...but we don’t know what the ramifications would be.”

“This would have never happened,” James said with a nod. “Simple as that.”

“Things are never quiet as simple as they may seem,” Dumbledore said as he pushed away from the window. He started to pace the small space between it and bed. “We don’t know what it would change.”

“But it’s only just happened,” Remus said. “We could prevent it from ever happening in the first place.”

“Or time could be in flux,” Dumbledore countered and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Or this could be a fact. If it is and doesn’t happen as it’s supposed to, it could corrupt the timeline and cause a paradox.”

“Which means?”

“That whatever’s in the Darkness wouldn’t matter,” Remus said, looking at Dumbledore. “Voldemort wouldn’t even matter anymore. The world would end.”

“Hold on,” James said, scooting to the edge of seat. “What _is_ the Darkness, exactly? How do we know it’s going to destroy _anything_ , let alone the universe?”

“That, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said, stopping his pacing to frown at them, “is the question. We don’t know what’s out there or at best we have theories as to what exactly the Darkness is. The only people who could tell us died a long time ago.”

“Then can’t we use a Time-Turner? Go back and ask for help?” James shouted. “We can’t just sit around discussing the cosmos and licking our wounds! My best mate is out there somewhere—somewhere he isn’t meant to be! We have to find him. Who’s going to be the baby’s godfather if he isn’t here? What are we all supposed to do without him? We need him!”

“James, please just ca—“ Remus started.

“No, Remus, don’t you tell me to calm down!” James pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you _dare_! For someone whose boyfriend has just disappeared off the face of the Earth, you’re taking this very well.”

“We don’t know that!” Remus yelled back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He hasn’t Flooed, hasn’t Apparated, hasn’t let us know he’s fine! He would’ve done already if he’d still been here! Hell, we’d have heard from the Death Eaters by now if they had anything to do with it! Moody's even been checking Muggle police reports and hospitals! No contact, no Dark Mark, nothing!”

“What if he’s injured? Unconscious? Somewhere he can’t contact us or get back?”

“There still would have been a report—someone would have contacted someone!”

“Like his family? They’d rather watch him die.”

James growled, dropping forcefully back into his chair. “We’d know! You can’t pretend everything’s going to be fine! We all know what silence means by now!” 

“If I think about it, I’ll go mad! Right now, I can’t let myself believe he’s not coming back because I _can’t_ , James,” Remus shouted, slumping back in his chair and rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. He ignored the sting of tears and took a few deep breaths. “Sorry.”

“No, I should be. I was out of line,” James said, reaching over to lay a hand on Remus’s forearm. 

They turned back to Dumbledore when he cleared his throat.

“Feeling better?” he asked, the usual twinkle in his eye replaced by a look of understanding.

“No,” James answered for the both of them. He gave Remus’s arm another pat before letting go. “How are we going to find him?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I have an idea. James, have you heard anything about the object the Department of Mysteries retrieved from Hogsmeade?”

James snorted. “Not much; just rumours here and there. They don’t call them Unspeakables because it sounds posh.”

“Rosmerta mentioned it when I came in,” Remus whispered. “She said everyone was afraid of it. That it seemed like the thing itself was in pain.”

Dumbledore nodded. “One can never be too cautious in times like these, but they shouldn’t be worrying. The box itself is harmless, and if what I think has happened for it to be in pain, then I fear the worst. Did she mention if they found anything inside?”

“Just that the Unspeakables said it was Voldemort’s doing and took it back with them.” Remus swallowed. “She...she also said the Darkness was coming.”

“Anything else?” Dumbledore asked and Remus tried not to shudder at the intensity of his stare. “Anything at all?”

“This woman walked in. Overhead Rosie mentioning the Darkness. She said she’d heard that before.”

“Oh, yes. Of all the pubs in all of Scotland, some bird has to walk into ours,” James muttered.

Remus didn’t know whether to smile or frown at his friend. “She seemed an odd sort.”

“Odd how, Remus?” Dumbledore asked. He walked to the end of the bed and sat down, hands clasped between his knees and brows furrowed. He was staring, waiting for an answer, at Remus as if he had just discovered a new use for dragon’s blood.


	7. Chapter 7

“She wasn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. There was something of the wolf about her, but she burned like the sun instead of the moon,” Remus said quietly, unable to meet Dumbledore’s stare. “I could barely stand to look at her.” 

“How?” James asked sharply. “How can this not be Voldemort’s doing? Things falling from the sky, people disappearing, and a werewolf who isn’t a proper werewolf—it’s madness.” 

“But yet there is elegance in even the maddest of situations.” Dumbledore looked between them. “These matters are of no concern to Voldemort. If they were, he would have already acted upon them. The thing is, if we don’t stop _this_ from happening then the Order and the Death Eaters won’t matter, like Remus said. The Darkness is coming. It’s not just the end of wizarding Britain as we know it if we allow this to happen, it’s the end of everything. Do you _understand_ that?” 

“But what _is_ the Darkness?” Remus asked, voice cracking. “How can we fight it if we don’t know what we’re even up against?” 

Dumbledore sighed. He stared past Remus and James and into the flames dancing in the fireplace. “The end of reality. The walls of the universe are breaking down. The space between different realities—some call it Hell, others call it the Void—is seeping through. There’s _nothing_ there. Nothing but darkness and cold. Can you imagine that—absolutely _nothing_? Because I can’t, and yet there’s something moving inside it trying to get out.” 

Remus felt James’s gaze on him and he looked up, meeting his eyes. There was a fear in them that hurt Remus to see, hadn’t seen since Sirius had tricked Snape into going to the Shrieking Shack, and his stomach clenched. He considered what Dumbledore had said, letting it sink in. He looked away when something flickered in James’s eyes. 

“Is Sirius in the Darkness?” Remus asked quietly, trying to let James’s hand gripping his forearm ground him. 

Dumbledore shook his head. “The Ministry remotely monitors Rift activity in Cardiff. Alastor checked it during his investigation. There was a large enough negative spike this afternoon to indicate it had taken something.” 

“Sirius,” James said, voice tense. “So he’s safe?” 

“He won’t be out of danger until we can find him,” Dumbledore said gravely. “ _If_ we can find him. The Rift returns what it takes, but there’s no way to predict when it will return something or in what state it will be.” 

“So what do we do? If we have to move the heavens to find him, we’ll do it. Right, Moony?” 

“And the moon,” Remus added. “That thing? The box that appeared in the street?” 

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye sparkling back to life. “I was hoping one of you would mention that. She’s called a TARDIS—a time and relative dimension in space.”

“She?” James cautioned. “How do we know it’s a she?” 

“The TARDIS is a sentient being,” Dumbledore said, giving James a look that said he thought the man was being deliberatly obtuse. 

“And we know that how?” 

“The box gets inside your head somehow according to what I’ve heard from my contacts in the Department of Mysteries. They claim it feels like it’s grieving, singing a song of lament, and why I do not know. I’d like to get a look for myself before I make my own judgements, though. If we can get inside, we may be able to find a way to pinpoint Sirius’s location.” 

“So it’s a sentient piece of technology?” Remus asked and tucked a leg up underneath himself. “Is it charmed?” 

“Oh, no, Remus. Not at all.” Remus thought Dumbledore looked like a third year on seeing Honeydukes for the first time. “She’s was grown on a planet called Gallifrey, home to the Time Lords, a race who used TARDISes to travel through time and protect the time lines. However, they died out a long time ago in the future. None survived the Last Great Time War.”

“Assuming that makes sense any sort of sense,” James said, frowning as he too shifted in his chair, “then how could it have ended up here?”

“She fell through time, perhaps,” Dumbledore said absently, stroking his beard. “We won’t know for sure until we can look at it.”

“But the Unspeakables took her,” Remus interjected. “We can’t just waltz into the Department of Mysteries and demand to see it.” 

“Of course not,” Dumbledore quipped. “We could just...bend the truth a bit.” 

“We could get sent to Azkaban, Albus,” James said, frownining at the man over the rim of his glasses. 

“Only if we do anything illegal. Last time I checked, just have little look wasn’t grounds for arrest.” 

“If it’s in the Department of Mysteries, it probably is. You know how they’re stepped up security.” James cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised. “We’ll never get in. Besides, I doubt ‘just looking’ is what we’ll be doing.” 

“Never say never,” Remus said, shooting him a look. “What if this is the only way to find out what happened to Sirius? The only way to get him back? You said you’d do anything!” 

James sighed. “I’m going to be a dad soon—I don’t want to risk my kid not knowing me by going to Azkaban and you need an arrest on your record like you need a blue moon. If we get found out, there’s no turning back. We’ll be lucky to get life and, just between us chickens, I don’t fancy a snog with a Dementor.” 

“Mr Potter. Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore said sternly and met both their eyes in turn. “If we don’t do something—if we don’t take this chance—we lessen our chances of finding Sirius at all. This may be our only chance. Sometimes, to set things right, one must risk everything.” 

“He’d do it for us, James,” Remus said quietly, turning his head towards the man.

“I know. I don’t have to like it, but I know. Ends justify the means, yeah?” He punched Remus’s shoulder playfully. “Yeah?” 

“If you say so, Prongs,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Now how do we do it?” 

“Leave that to me, boys. I’ll see if I can sort something out, and maybe call in a few favours,” Dumbledore said and rubbed his hands over his knees. Standing, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe and smiled down at them. “In the meantime, go home, try to get some rest, and meet me in my office around nine tomorrow morning. That should give me enough time to come up with a plan, all right? Bring Mr Pettigrew. He’s Sirius’s friend too. He should know if something has happened to him.” 

Remus and James shared a guilty look but nodded. 

“Good,” he said with a smile. “See you tomorrow then, boys.” 

His eyes twinkled as he regarded them one last time before disappearing with a “pop.” 

James sighed heavily and slumped in his chair. “Sirius couldn’t have just got himself arrested like a normal person?” 

Remus chuckled, some of the tension of the day slipping away. “Well, at least he got out of dinner with my auntie.” 

James smirked. “Like I said, couldn’t he have gone about it the _normal_ way?” 

“This is Padfoot we’re talking about. Nothing he ever does is normal.” 

*** 

“A werewolf?” Harkness asked, laughter in his voice. He rolled his eyes and shared a look with Jones, who only quirked an eyebrow at him. “Really?” 

Sirius wanted to knock the shit-eating grin off the American’s face. Hard. 

“Yes,” he said instead through clenched teeth, hands curled tightly into fists. Mentally, he counted to ten. It didn’t help. “A werewolf. What’s so funny about that?” 

Harkness cleared his throat. “Nothing. Nothing I suppose. Are you sure he’s human, though?” 

“He’s just as human as I am,” Sirius said defensively and sat up a little straighter. It was difficult enough having to deal with the prejudices against magical creatures in their world; did it really have to be the same in the Muggle one as well? “He’s just got a furry little problem, that’s all.” 

“That’s one way to put it,” Harkness said with a soft chuckle. His eyes softened, the lines around them becoming more prominent, and Sirius felt his annoyance reluctantly slipping away. 

“You mean you don’t think I’m mad?” 

“Well, the magic bit is a little hard to believe, but I’m still not convinced there’s not _something_ to it. It’s not outside the realm of possibility. Torchwood has had experience with werewolves before, so that’s a stroke in your favour.”

“Do I want to know?” Sirius asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Probably not,” Harkness said and turned towards Jones. 

“It’s a bit...complicated anyway,” the Welshman said and pulled something small and rectangular from his pocket. “Shall I, Jack?” 

Harkness hummed noncommittally and shrugged out of his coat. “Tell Gwen we’re on our way with company.” 

Sirius frowned as Jones stared down at the device for a moment before pressing some buttons. He watched as the Welshman got to his feet, turned his back on the pair and started talking into it. Frowning at Harkness, Sirius asked, “Is that another scanner?” 

Harkness chuckled and stood, offering a hand to him. He took it and stood still as the American draped his coat over Sirius’s shoulders. “That’s just a mobile phone.” 

“Don’t phones need a cord to work?” Sirius asked, looking down at the coat. The wool was soft and well-worn against his palms as he pulled it tighter around himself. He shivered into its warmth, the scent of gun oil and the spice of Harkness’s aftershave teasing his nostrils. He sneezed. 

“Bless you.” Patting his shoulder, Harkness said, “No cords, just a really good radio signal. Technology’s amazing, isn’t it?” 

“If you say so...” Sirius trailed off with a frown as he studied the coat. He turned slightly to look back at him. “World War II?” 

“Yup,” Harkness said and Sirius noticed the set of his jaw. 

Sirius frowned. The man was far too young to have served; he didn’t look a day over forty. Even if it were 1979, he still would have been too young, and if it really was 2008, he would have had to been _well_ over seventy to have even been alive, let alone serve, during the war. “How’d you get it?” 

“Long story,” Harkness said, and turned that wide smile of his on Sirius. His eyes, though, were as blue and stormy as the water in the distance. 

“Aren’t they always?” he asked, not accepting the dismissal. If Harkness wanted him to be honest with them, the least he could do was take his own bloody advice. “At least the good ones are.”

Harkness stared at Jones’s back for a moment, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as the younger man gesticulated as he spoke. It was gone by the time he turned back to Sirius. “Family heirloom. It was my dad’s. He was a volunteer during the war.” 

Sirius nodded, not believing a word but letting it drop, and looked out across the island. “So what...what’s going to happen to me now?” 

“Well, first you’re going to come back with us to our base,” Harkness said, rocking back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest. “Then once you tell us what we need to know, we’ll see what we can do.” 

“I just want to go home,” Sirius said, shoulders slumping. He watched as Jones lowered the phone from his ear. 

“I know, kid,” Harkness murmured, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Trust me, I know.” 

He looked up, startled. The man was staring past Jones, out across the island and the channel. Sirius didn’t know if he meant America or not, but the look on his face was set, lips turned down and gaze far, far away. Sirius let out a breath as Jones cleared his throat. 

“Jack?” 

Harkness’s reverie was snapped as he looked up at Jones. Jones smiled gently, almost reassuringly, at him and Sirius pulled the coat tighter around himself, pretending to study one of the buttons. He ran his finger over the design, absently pressing against it before seeing if it had left an impression on his skin. 

“Ianto,” Harkness said softly, _intimately_ if Sirius were being honest. “Gwen in yet?” 

“Yep,” Jones said and frowned at Sirius. He paused to zip his own coat and turn the collar up against the wind. “I let her know we’ll be in shortly, plus one, and to have everything ready.” 

Sirius grasped the lapels of the greatcoat, the fabric damp. He didn’t know if liked the idea of going back to theirs without his wand, but he didn’t have much choice, did he?

“I’ll just let Helen know we’ve found him. I’ll meet you back at the boat?” 

Sirius turned his head towards Harkness. He still had that pained, faraway look in his eyes; his pale blue shirt was saturated from the rain and Sirius could just make out the vest underneath. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but he seemed to not even notice. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at Jones and grasped Sirius’s arm just above his elbow. “Ready?” 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Sirius said dejectedly. At least he’d be out of the rain, he hoped. 

“Not really.” Harkness gave him a small grin. “Quick march. We don’t want you catching your death out here.” 

Sirius turned his head, looking at the man. His fringe was sticking to his forehead, rivulets streaming down from the humiliated spikes. He wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him who would be catching his death if they didn’t get somewhere dry soon. Instead, he let Harkness lead him back towards the shore. Jones was already a few paces ahead, mobile phone pressed to his ear once more. 

*** 

“Well,” Ianto said as he leaned against the boat’s railing. He watched Black lying across the seats, legs tucked up under Jack’s greatcoat and eyes closed. “That went smoother than I expected.” 

“Yeah, it did,” Jack sighed and reached behind Ianto to brace him against falling overboard. Ianto rolled his eyes, but turned into Jack’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“The question is,” Ianto said, lips brushing against Jack’s skin, “is what we are going to do with him.” 

“How would you like to have a hell hound that just happens to turn into a man for a pet? I hear they make excellent guard dogs.” 

“Are you trying to replace me, sir?” Ianto teased, nipping at Jack’s ear lobe before pulling back to raise one eyebrow at him. 

“Never,” Jack sighed and let his hand trail up Ianto’s back to run his fingers through his soaked hair. “I think we should run some more scans when we get back. Something isn’t right with the readings we’ve already got. Residual Rift or artron energy shouldn’t be that strong, but it could just be ‘magic’ if he’s telling the truth. I want to be absolutely sure he’s a terrestrial before we do anything.

“Gwen and I can interrogate him, see what he knows, and you can run a search for his Remus fellow. Maybe find out if he has any next of kin we can notify; I’m thinking we find a body that looks like he will in about thirty years, a road accident, face too mangled to make a positive ID but close enough no one’ll notice. I’ll let you have fun with it.” 

“I’m going to need a last name,” Ianto said softly, “but then again, how many ‘Remuses’ could there be.” 

“We’ll see what we can get out of him,” Jack sighed, trailing his hand along the contours of Ianto’s face, wiping away a trail of water slipping down the side of his face. 

Ianto closed his eyes, shivering as Jack’s fingers ghosted along the curve of his lip, and sighed into his mouth as Jack leaned in to press their lips together, tongue teasing at the seam. He pressed his palm over Jack’s heart as he gave in, allowing Jack to say with his kiss what he didn’t put into words, ignoring the saturated fabric as he squeezed Jack’s shirt. 

“What was that for?” he asked, smiling gently, when Jack pulled away. 

Jack’s lips quirked into a small, self-conscious smile. “Don’t leave me. Please. I don’t what I’d do if you weren’t here.” 

“Oh, Jack,” Ianto said and pressed a kiss against Jack’s chin before nuzzling along his jawline. “I don’t plan to, _cariad_ , not for a very long time. What’s brought this on?” 

Jack sighed heavily, his arms tightening around Ianto. He stared at Black, his head resting on Ianto’s shoulder. When Ianto’s hand came up to rest on the nape of his neck, fingers teasing through his hair, he whispered, “I don’t want to be the one left behind.” 

The “again” went unspoken, but nonetheless understood.


	8. Chapter 8

_He was back at Hogwarts, having breakfast in the Great Hall with James, Peter and Remus. James and Peter were throwing bacon at each other and trying to catch the pieces in their mouths. He was holding Remus’s hand under the table, laughing along with him as a rasher hit Peter in the eye. Sirius felt content and lighter than he could remember being in a long time, simply happy to be without whispers of a coming darkness threatening to shatter their bliss._

_“Arse!” James calls and rips a soldier of toast in half. He butters it before flinging it at Peter, who lets out a small squeak and ducks._

_They sober as the toast lands in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s porridge, letting out a collective breath as he plucks it from the bowl and salutes them with it before taking a bite. Further down the table, Lily is rolling her eyes at their antics, but she can’t quite hide a small smile as she turns back to her friends to comment on the collective maturity of the boys in their year._

_Sirius doesn’t pay attention as James halfheartedly tosses the rest of his toast at Peter. Instead, he focuses on the feel of Remus’s finger stroking his palm. He doesn’t care that they’re in the Great Hall with their backs to the room, that anyone could see them and call them any ugly name they think will hurt them._

_He’s a warm weight beside him, setting his heart aflutter and filling his stomach with delicious butterflies. But the surroundings flicker as he leans in to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. He pulls away from his lover’s side, looking around in panic as the long tables give way to a camp bed and a sink basin, the oak doors harden to grey metal, and Remus’s face contorts and reforms as if he’s just swallowed a dram of polyjuice._

_Hazel eyes turn to blue, golden brown hair darkens from ends down to root, cheeks fill and he shoots up as legs lengthen. A school uniform gives way to a perfectly tailored black suit with a scarlet pinstripe and golden tie._

_Sirius’s heart beats faster as Jones grins at him, all Harkness’s in its chill, and he wants to lash out at him. But his hands are heavy as lead at his side, refusing to move even as muscles pulled taught scream at him to move, and he can feel the bile and panic rising in his throat._

_“Mr Black?” Jones asks, reaching out for him._

_Sirius can feel himself shaking and tries to take a step back but stumbles, falling onto his arse. He tries to scuttle backwards but he’s rooted to the spot, and Jones bends down to place a hand on his shoulder._

_“Mr Black?”_

_Sirius groans and, curling in on himself, tries to stop trembling as the man calls his name again._

_“Mr Black? It’s time to go.”_

_Sirius thrashes, finally moving backwards, and then he’s falling, tumbling through the darkness...._

 

He woke with a start, clinging to Jones’s arm. He looked around the small boat before staring down at Jones’s hand on his shoulder. 

Oh.

He must have dozed off while they were sailing back to Cardiff. That would explain why Jones had been shaking him and the nausea. He always was one to get sea sick; James had teased him mercilessly about it on the boat ride to Hogwarts until Sirius had had enough and overturned a trifle on his head during the feast. The subsequent week of detention with Professor Kettleburn had been well worth it. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Harkness called from somewhere to his left. “Or should I say afternoon?” Sirius assumed he paused to check his watch. “Yup. Definitely afternoon.”

Sirius wanted to vomit in his general direction. Instead, he took a deep breath and swallowed a few times as he sat up, letting the man’s greatcoat fall from his shoulders as he rolled them. He groaned as they popped and the band of tension running up his neck and around his skull pulled tight, making him feel even more like being sick. “I’m still in Cardiff, right?”

“Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom, Europe, Earth, Milky Way,” Harkness called back and stepped into his peripheral vision. “I could go on.”

“Please don’t.”

“Damn!” Harkness chuckled and walked over to Jones. He stood closer to him, elbow brushing against the man’s forearm as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, than Sirius would have thought appropriate if he weren’t slowly coming to a conclusion about their relationship. 

“So where is your base? Is it near here?” Sirius tried to look around at the docks. He felt a rush of vertigo when didn’t recognise any of his surroundings, and gripped the edge of his seat a little tighter as he tried not to sway. 

“It’s in the general area,” Harkness said, waving his hand vaguely. “We’re ready to go ashore whenever you are.”

Jones rolled his eyes.

“And if I want to stay on the boat?”

“You can go back to the island. I’m sure they’ll be happy to take you back.” 

Sirius shivered and looked down at his shoes; the place was too much like a prison no matter what Harkness seemed to think. He stood and reached behind him to pick the coat up. He took a moment to run his hands over one of the epaulettes before holding it out to Harkness. “Please don’t make me go back there.”

“I won’t,” Harkness said and shook his head. “You wear it for a while longer. You’re better off not getting ill.”

“What about you?”

“Haven’t been ill in years,” Harkness said and took his hands out of his pockets. A pair of keys glinted in what little light was filtering through the clouds. 

Sirius shrugged and slipped his arms through the sleeves as Harkness tossed the keys to Jones. 

“Ready, Mr Black?” the Welshman asked, frowning at him.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sirius said, following Jones’s glare down to his feet. The hem of the coat was muddy. “Sorry.”

“It’s seen worse,” Harkness laughed and turned on his heel. “You two coming or am I walking back to the Hub by myself?”

Sirius looked back at Jones, who motioned for him to follow Harkness. He sighed and trailed behind as he climbed out of the boat, Jones on his heels, and made sure to hold up the coattails as he walked towards the car park. Harkness stopped by a big, black Range Rover with dark windows and “Torchwood” embossed along the bonnet. It seemed to suit him, Sirius thought—large, imposing, and just a little bit flash.

“In the back,” Harkness said as they caught up with him. The man opened the back passenger side door, holding it for him, and Sirius climbed up and in with a roll of his eyes….

Which went wide as the looked around the interior. There were machines. Machines softly glowing blue. Built into the car. It was claustrophobic, but when he tried to climb back out, Harkness slammed the door. As Sirius grabbed the door handle a hydraulic noise sounded. He pulled at the handle but slumped, defeated, back into his seat when the door refused to open.

Harkness opened the other back door and slid in before he had a chance to lean over and try it. Jones slipped into the driver’s seat and clicked his seat belt into place before starting the ignition.

“Ready, Jack?” he called and looked back at Sirius in the rear view mirror. “Buckle up please, Mr Black.”

“Ready,” Harkness called and pressed a button on the leather strap around his wrist. A keyboard flipped down from somewhere as Jones started to back the car out of its space. Sirius just slumped down in his seat and ignored all the strange kit in favour of staring out the window. 

***

The wind had picked up by the time Remus stepped out of the Three Broomsticks. He quickly did up his cloak, but not before searching his pockets for his pack of fags. The cigarette sprang to life with a small puff of smoke when he brought it to his lips. He inhaled, holding it in for a moment before letting it back out, the smoke howling away in the wind, and let his head fall back. He sighed and ignored the burning in his eyes that had little to do with the smoke. 

The door behind him opened, the shrunken heads shouting once more about Muggles. He smiled as they shouted in indignation at the apparent unladylike behaviour of the person’s gesture. He took another drag and waited for the person to pass him. 

“Those are bad for you, you know.” It was the blonde woman.

“I’m quitting tomorrow,” Remus said, deadpan, and held out the pack to the woman. 

He looked up as she thanked him and froze. Blonde hair, big brown eyes, full lips, and that strange feeling again. His head swam as she nodded her thanks, visions of golden mist floating through his mind.

She started as the cigarette flamed to life, drawing his attention once more, and Remus couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Never had the magical kind before?”

“It...always surprises me, that’s all,” she said, inhaling. She tried to smile at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she looked tired and sad. It gave him a start; she was a Muggle in a wizarding village. She should be panicking, even if she was a werewolf of some sort, but she seemed little more than calm and resigned. 

Remus “hmmed,” as if agreeing with her, and took a drag off his own. “That’s not a local accent.”

“You’re one to talk,” she laughed and a beautifully strange song pirouetted behind Remus’s eyelids. 

“Yeah, well, Conwy is a long way off London,” Remus said with a wary smile.

“I’ve been to Wales a few times,” the woman said. “It was...worked related. I’m sure you know those types of trips—always busy running from place to place and never getting a chance to do anything actually fun. Still, it was lovely.”

“Don’t make fun,” Remus said and dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his heel before quickly shaking another from the pack. 

“Oi!” she laughed. “I wasn’t! I happen to like Cardiff.”

“That’s a first,” Remus deadpanned and sighed as he raised the new cigarette to his lips. Unbidden, his mind wandered back to Sirius and the empty flat he’d be going home to. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of the large bed he’d sleep in alone, how quiet it would be without Sirius’s records and eight-tracks, and how utterly empty he would become if he had to get used to it.

“I know that look,” the woman said and laid a hand on his arm as he lowered his cigarette. “Who’d you lose?”

“What?” Remus said, taking a step back and staring down at the place where she had touched him. Even through cloak, jacket, and jumper, he could feel his skin tingling. 

“It’s your eyes,” she said and looked into them. 

“That still doesn’t mean anything,” he said, forcing himself to look away. 

“That thing that appeared in the street is called a TARDIS,” she said abruptly. He stared at her for a second, seeing what was perhaps in his own eyes reflected in hers. He had a feeling that whoever she had lost maybe had something to do with the strange blue box.

“So I’ve heard.”

She sighed, quickly raising the hand not holding her cigarette to smooth her windswept hair. “We thought it might have been the Doctor’s—it wouldn’t be the first time he’s stumbled through into a parallel universe—or that there might be another Time Lord out there. Maybe this universe’s version of him.”

“And that has to do with my loss how?” Remus said, suddenly suspicious. If she knew about TARDISes and different universes, maybe she had something to do with Sirius’s disappearance. Or perhaps she was one of the werewolves Voldemort had turned to his side. He’d never seen a wolf with powers like hers before, and he wasn’t about to go trusting something the wolf was telling him wasn’t quite right when there was a war on. “It landed in Scotland—we were in Wales when he disappeared—and that was this afternoon, not however many bloody weeks ago.”

“I know,” she said and pursed her lips. 

“This isn’t Cardiff, love,” Remus said and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I know. I was there earlier. A Mr Moody told me to talk to Albus Dumbledore about everything. Said that it was beyond him.”

“You might be able to catch him if you hurry along up to the castle. I was just leaving.” Remus threw the cigarette down and, turning on his heel, started back down the street. She wouldn’t make it past the wards surrounding the school, and he hated himself just a little bit for not caring what happened to her.

“He’s not the one I want to talk to, Remus Lupin,” she called after him.

He stopped, looking back at her with narrowed eyes. He could feel the wolf clawing inside him, telling him to run as far and as fast as he could from her, but he ignored it. “How do you know my name?”

“You were at the scene of crime. Well, I say crime. For a bunch of wizards trying to keep your world secret, you’re quite bad at it. Just like Torchwood, really. You’d be amazed at the paper trail. I asked around about Hogwarts in Dufftown. They just pointed towards the ruins.”

“Really?” Remus said, grinning wolfishly at her. The downy hairs on the back of his neck and shoulders were standing straight up, mirroring the wolf’s raised hackles. “What else do you know?”

“That this afternoon Sirius Black was taken by the Rift. That’s what Dumbledore’s already told you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, tried to not even flinch, but she must have seen something in his face, because she smirked.

“I thought as much. At the time of Black’s disappearance, there was a breach in the wall of this reality. We think Black may have been pulled through one universe to another by the Rift,” she said calmly. “Do you understand?”

“Sirius is possibly in a parallel dimension,” Remus said dryly, as if commenting on the weather. “I got that already, but why should I believe you?” 

“I’ve given you no reason too,” she said and took a step closer to him, “but I need you to trust me. There’s something coming—something causing the universes to collapse. There’s a chance your friend is out there, safe and sound, and I can help you get him back and find the one man who can put everything right again.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Remus asked, crossing his arms. Why wasn’t the man she was looking for, if he really could stop the darkness and bring Sirius home, here already? “I doubt a space-time rift is very reliable.”

“Not really. We can make predictions based on past activity, but it’s a bit hit or miss,” she said and pulled something from under her jacket. It was a big yellow button suspended from a chain. “This jumps from reality to reality. They’ve started working again now that the walls are breaking down, but the technology is a bit dated. One of these saved my life a long time ago, but now I need to get back.”

“Back where?”

“My own universe.” She stepped towards him and pulled it from her neck. “To make a long story short, I was going to be sucked into the Void, and this pulled me across to safety.”

***

Jack closed the browser window as they pulled onto the Plass and, with the push of a button, replaced the keyboard. He smiled at the sunshine slipping through the breaking clouds, glad for the break in the showers. He sighed as Ianto stopped the car by the water tower and tried to think of the feel of Ianto’s sun-warmed skin against his and ignore the rich stench of petrichor. He shivered, shrugging off the phantom feel of wet earth clinging to his skin, and pressed a button on his wrist strap. He looked back at Black as the doors unlocked and tried not to chuckle as the man started.

“We’re here,” he said as Black blinked and squinted out the windows. “Do you know where you are?”

“The old West Bute dock?” he asked and frowned past Jack to get a better look at the water tower. “It looks... different.”

“Who’d have thought, right?” Jack ducked his head to hide a smile. “They’ve redeveloped it since 1979.”

“Clearly,” the man said and turned towards the Millennium Centre. “Isn’t that a bit flash for a so-called secret organisation’s headquarters?”

Ianto chuckled from the front seat and turned around to look at Black and Jack. “You should have seen the one in London. It was the tallest building in the UK until it was destroyed, but that’s—”he nodded towards the stadium—“not our headquarters.”

Black’s eyes widened. “What? It wasn’t posh enough for you?”

Jack chuckled and threw open his door. “Our place was here more than a century before the Armadillo there.”

“Armadillo?” Black frowned, his nose scrunching, and looked back at Ianto.

“It looks like one. Sort of,” he said with a shrug. “Jack’ll show you our place.”

They watched Black look around, his eyes coming to rest on the water tower again. “Where is it?”

“You’ll see,” Jack said, winking at Ianto before stepping out the SUV. “I’ll give you the PR tour, starting with the tourist entrance.”

“Play nice, Jack,” Ianto said and turned back around in his seat.

“I always do,” Jack quipped. 

“A little too nicely, if you ask me,” Ianto called and met his eyes in the wing mirror. Jack looked away almost immediately. 

“You know, this was supposed to be our day off,” he said turning back to a hesitating Black, “but no thanks to your little magic trick, I had to climb out of a nice warm bed and come in. I’d like to get back there as soon as possible if you don’t mind.”

He nodded to Black’s seat belt. 

“What he means is that he’s cranky because he’s missing _Bargain Hunt_ and neither of us have had a proper day off in a fortnight,” Ianto said, smiling impishly and ignoring Jack’s exclamation of indignation. “So if you could please hurry, we’d appreciate it.” 

“Sorry,” Black mumbled and unclipped the belt. With a sigh he opened the door, minding his coattails as he climbed out. 

Ianto waited until he had slammed the door shut before putting the SUV back into gear. 

“See you inside,” Jack said and slammed his own door. 

Jack watched the SUV for a moment before turning to Black. He clapped him on the shoulder, catching him when he stumbled forwards. “Sorry. You’ll want to see this.”

Black groaned. “The last time I heard that, some guy flashed me on the Tube.”

Jack laughed heartily and winked at him. “Well, maybe later if you’re lucky.”

Black rolled his eyes. “Are you always this friendly? Maybe I should have stayed in that prison of yours.”

“It’s not a prison,” Jack said, defensively. “Watch closely.” 

He turned on his heel and stepped onto the invisible lift. He watched Black look around wildly and spun in place as his eyes darted around the oval basin, trying to find him. He chuckled to himself as the man stepped onto the pavement and checked behind the water tower. He took a step backwards as Black ran a hand through his hair and pointed to the slab of pavement.

“We call it the invisible lift,” Jack said, satisfied when Black started and his right hand reflexively went to his side as if to grab a weapon.

“How does it work?” he asked, looking warily at it.

Jack shrugged. “We don’t really know, although my guess would be that a dimensionally transcendent chameleon circuit landed here once upon a time and welded its perception properties to the Rift.”

“That’s quite a mouthful,” Black said and stepped onto it. He jumped up and down a few times. “Why couldn’t I see you?”

“Perception filter,” Jack answered and stood beside him on the slab. “No one can see or hear us while we’re on it.”

“And I’m sure you don’t use it for your own personal purposes.”

“Ianto isn’t too keen on the idea. Pity that, really.” Jack sighed and brought his wrist strap up. Punching in a code, he said, “You’ll want to hold on for this.”

“What do—Merlin’s balls!” Black exclaimed as the lift jolted to a start, grabbing hold of Jack’s arm.

Jack laughed and held onto Black as he leaned over to look down at the Hub below. The man’s grey eyes were wide with wonder as he took it in and his head snapped up as Myfanwy swooped past, squawking her welcome. Black’s jaw hung open as he stared at her.

“Pterodactyl?” he asked in awe, turning to Jack as the lift rumbled to a stop. 

Jack waved to Gwen as she approached, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. “Pteranodon, actually. Her name’s Myfanwy. Though I’m surprised you didn’t think she was a dragon. Dragons and magic tend to go hand in hand, don’t they?”

Black started as the armoury door clanged shut behind Ianto, automatically locking as he strode across the Hub to stand beside Gwen. Black looked at Jack as if he’d just proclaimed the sky was yellow and that he was an idiot for thinking it was blue. “Don’t be daft. The dragon preserve is nowhere near Cardiff, and she doesn’t look much like a Welsh Green. She’s far too small; she’s about the size of a Peruvian Vipertooth, if you want to get technical. Not to mention the smaller wingspan, and her head shape is completely wrong.”

Jack shared a look with Gwen and Ianto before stepping down. “Whatever you say. Mr Black, this is Gwen Cooper. She’s our liaison officer with Cardiff’s finest. Gwen, this is Sirius Black. He’s from 1979. He came through the Rift last night and in the short time he’s been here, he’s become the first person to have successfully broken out of the facility at Flat Holm.”

“Hiya,” Gwen said and smiled at their guest. “So, where are you from then?”

Jack watched as Black gave her a once over before stepping cautiously off the slab of pavement.

“London. I was visiting a friend in Cardiff yesterday and next thing I know I’m here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her gap-toothed grin strained, and Jack could see the tension around her eyes. “We’ll do whatever we can to get you home.”

Jack held back a sigh, and moved to Ianto’s side as Black looked hopefully between the three of them. The hand on the small of his back didn’t reassure him as much as he wished it would.


	9. Chapter 9

“What would have happened if you hadn’t used that?” Remus asked, voice strained and heart beating fast, and nodded towards the circular device. “Would you have died?”

“Yeah,” the blonde said simply, not looking away from Remus.

Remus bit back a cry and had to lean against the nearest lamppost as his knees gave out. 

“I’m sorry!” she cried and reached out to steady him. She froze when Remus shrunk away from her touch. “I wasn’t taken by the Rift, love. I’d been through the Void in the TARDIS, and it was trying to suck me back in since I was covered in Void material.

“Dark matter or artron energy is probably what it’s closest to. Sort of,” she said as he started to protest. “Someone used this and saved my life. The breech closed behind me and I was trapped on a parallel version Earth.”

“Alone?” Remus asked and took a shuddering breath. The thought of Sirius alone in a strange new world was unbearable.

“I had my mum and dad and my mate Mickey. I even met up with an old friend in Cardiff. I never existed in that world, so he didn’t know me, but it was nice to see him again.”

“Were you and he—“

The blonde laughed. “God, no! His husband would have had my head. Well, maybe not if he’d been invited along.” She sighed. “Like they say, it’s always the good ones.”

“Men can’t get married and there’s no such thing as parallel dimensions,” Remus said, letting himself smile bitterly. Maybe one day, with the Muggles’ advancement in science, one of those would change; hell, his relationship with Sirius was still considered a crime here in Scotland. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” she chuckled, but quickly turned serious. “I had someone back home anyway.” She paused and stared at a spot on the pavement by Remus’s right boot. “He’s probably moved on by now, but if I could just see him one last time....”

Remus watched the emotions flicker over her face, her brown eyes shining in the pale glow of the streetlight. They seemed older than her face, like she’d seen too much; he knew that look far too well. He saw it around the table every time the Order met, every time Sirius clung a bit too tightly to him after they made love, every time he looked in the mirror. 

“You should talk to Dumbledore,” he said quietly and her head snapped up. Her eyes bored into his and he tried not to hiss at the flicker of fear the wolf inside him felt. “H-he could help you more. I’m afraid I don’t know more than what he’s told me.”

“I don’t have a lot of time here, Remus,” she said. “I can’t play the go-between. I want to help _you_. Moody said you and Mr Black are more than just good friends; I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now.” 

“That’s really none of your business, nor is it his,” Remus snapped, looking back over his shoulder and peering down the nearest alley.

“They decriminalise it next year,” she said, her lips turned down in a frown. “Things change; people become more accepting. In about thirty-five years you and Sirius can even legally get married if you want. Well, that is if this world is running on a similar timeline to mine.”

“Yeah, right,” Remus snorted. “I can’t help you by myself. I don’t even have a job anymore.”

“I know,” she said with a small, almost pitying smile. “They’ve cracked down on magical creatures, haven’t they?”

“Just how much did you read about me?”

“Enough. Torchwood likes to be thorough with its investigations.”

“Torchwood?” Remus said, brow crinkling in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Nothing to do with you at the moment,” the blonde said sharply.

“Such nice manners,” Remus quipped, his grin less a sarcastic smile and more a snarl of teeth.

“You remind me of Ianto,” she said lightly, a small spark of a smile in her eyes.

“Who’s he?”

“My friend’s husband,” she said fondly. 

Remus rolled his eyes again. “I’m glad that I could be such a lovely source of amusement for you.”

“Sorry,” she said. “That’s a compliment, by the way. They’re both extraordinary men.” She paused. “Now, werewolf. You’re different from the other one I’ve met. He was a bit...homicidal.”

“I know the type,” Remus said with a sigh. “How does this relate to anything?”

“It doesn’t, really. I was just trying to make for small talk.”

Remus closed his eyes, curled his hands into tight fists, and mentally counted back from ten. He let out a breath when he finished and glowered at her. “Whatever you’ve got to say, say it now or I’m going.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “When the time is right, I’ll be there to help you get him back. You need to get a look at the TARDIS—they’ve got it locked away in the Department of Mysteries. If there’s a man inside called the Doctor, he can help you; he’s the only one who can help any of us. If he’s not there and something’s happened to him here too…then I’ll try my hardest to do what I can. I promise you that.”

“And you are?” Remus said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m just a Torchwood agent trying to stop the end of the world.” Her cheeky grin faded as her brow furrowed. “We seem to do that on an unusually regular basis, actually.”

“I don’t care about bloody Torchwood,” he said sharply. “What’s your _name_?”

“I’ll be back when you find the TARDIS,” she said and stared at him sadly for a moment before looking across the street. Remus followed her gaze and his heart skipped a beat when he read the graffiti he had passed on his way into the pub. He shivered. He’d seen it before; someone had manage to tag half of Cardiff with the same phrase: BAD WOLF.

“What does that even mean?” he said around the lump in his throat and whipped his head around to look back at her. “What’s your _name_?”

She blinked slowly, and Remus thought her eyes glowed golden as she faded away before him.

Remus stood frozen for a moment before reaching out, his hand gliding through the space she had just occupied. He laughed nervously and drew his wand. He looked down the empty street, searching for a streak of blonde hair he knew he wouldn’t find before Disapparating with a “pop.”

***

Sirius wasn’t sure if the woman’s smile was disconcerting or merely annoying. While adorably gap-toothed, it looked forced and her large hazel eyes had a hardness to them, just like Harkness’s and Jones’s, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He listened to her wittering about her husband and some type of banana boat as she showed him to the locker rooms. He smiled automatically when she laughed and hummed in the right places when she paused for breath. 

“—so Banana gets himself arrested before the wedding and here I am running around like a headless chicken trying to make sure the best man’s out of gaol and back in the country in time for the wedding,” she said, smiling widely at him, and stopped in front of a metal door tinted with rust. “Here we go. Showers.”

Sirius half-smiled at her and shrugged out of Harkness’s coat. “I was best man at my mate’s wedding. I think Lily might have been happier had I landed myself in gaol.”

She smiled and took the coat from him, clutching it to her chest. “And why was that?”

“I never can resist taking the piss when it comes to James,” Sirius said, burying the quasi-painful memories. “She wasn’t too happy when I let slip about Pamela O’Neill.”

“Old girlfriend?” she said, looking back down the corridor as Jones, now dressed in a different suit, turned a corner opposite the way they came. 

“Yup.” Sirius followed her gaze and frowned at the bright green bundle the Welshman carried. “He started dating her in sixth year when Lily turned him down for the...forty-seventh time, I think.”

“You kept count?” Jones asked, one eyebrow arching towards his hairline, and coming to a stop beside Cooper. 

“She turned him down on a semi-regular basis for the better part of seven years.”

“Love at first sight, then,” Cooper stage-whispered and patted Jones’s arm. “I’ll just go and hang this back up.” She held up Harkness’s coat. “Unless it needs dry cleaning.”

“I’ll take it with Jack’s other things,” Ianto said, smiling tightly at her. “There’s a loose button I need to fix anyway.” 

Cooper opened her mouth to say something, but must have thought better as she sighed deeply instead. “All right, then. Where did Jack get to anyway?”

“He’s down his hole,” Jones said, a lurid twinkle in his eye, and Sirius felt his cheeks flush.

Cooper giggled and pointed back down the way they had come. “I’m just gonna go.”

Sirius watched her retreating form, the clicking of her boots echoing off the concrete walls. He turned back to Jones and raised an eyebrow of his own.

“Please tell that means something other than what I think it means.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr Black,” the man deadpanned, his face a carefully controlled mask. “Some of us find the gutters rather comfortable for stargazing.”

“Oscar Wilde is rolling in his grave right now,” Sirius said, mirroring Jones’s expression. 

“Not anymore,” Jones mumbled. 

Sirius’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“No, that one was a joke.” He placed one hand on top of the bundle he was carrying and held it out to Sirius. “Fresh towel, clean scrubs and socks. I’m afraid we don’t keep presentable street clothes in stock around here. Well, not for very long anyway.”

“What are scrubs?” Sirius asked and took a piece of the green clothing between his thumb and forefinger. He let it unfurl and frowned at the flimsy pair of trousers. As if the colour wasn’t bad enough, there was a shirt to match.

The look on Jones’s face was priceless; he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t you have surgeons in your world?”

“Most wizards think it’s primitive,” Sirius said, shrugging as he draped the trousers over his arm. He took the rest of the clothes from him and smiled. “Personally, I think it’s amazing what Muggles can do without magic, even if it is a bit barbaric. Soap and shampoo?”

Jones placed his hands on his hips, his jacket shifting with the movement. Sirius saw the glint of his gun in a shoulder holster and swallowed. So well cut was Jones’s suit Sirius hadn’t noticed he was armed; at least Cooper had the decency to wear her gun clipped to her belt. 

“Everything’s in there,” he said, smiling tightly as he nodded towards the door. “I’ll just be out here if you need anything. Don’t be too long—the pizza should be here soon.” The Welshman paused, worrying his lip for a moment. “Your Remus. What’s his surname?”

“Why?” Sirius asked cautiously, eyeing the young man. 

“I’m going to try to look him up for you,” Jones said quietly, his shoulders slumping and blue eyes soft. “Besides, we’ll need it anyway to corroborate what happened after your disappearance, too, if there were any official reports.”

“Lupin. Remus John Lupin,” Sirius said, willing away the twinge in his stomach. “He was born in Cardiff.”

“Thanks,” Jones said with a small upward quirk on his lips. “You best hurry. Jack doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Sirius nodded and pushed open the heavy metal door. His stomach grumbled at the thought of food as he looked around the tiled room. Steeling himself, he sat the clothes down on the long wooden bench in the centre of the room and, stripping, headed for the showers. 

***

“He’s a bit handsome, don’t you think?” Gwen said, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot as she looked down at Black in the interrogation room. The young man was running a finger around the edge of an empty plate as he absently picked at the label on his water bottle with his other hand.

Jack placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her. “You’re making me nauseous.”

“Sorry,” she said and smiled at him. “But he is sort of pretty.”

“Oh, yes. ‘Pretty.’ Just what every man wants to hear,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. He smacked Jack’s hand away from the pizza box. “If I ran a composition scan on _you_ , I think it’d be about seventy-five percent meat feast.” 

“Can’t I have just one more piece? It’s veggie.” Jack batted his eyelashes. “Please? Think of my health, my vitamin deficiencies. And should you be comparing the relative merits of Black’s attractiveness, _Mrs_ Williams.”

“Think of what Gillian McKeith would say.” Ianto snorted, but handed over a slice of pizza anyway. He chuckled when Gwen punched Jack’s arm and sent it tumbling to the floor. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“I can look if I want. It’s not a crime,” Gwen said. “And Ianto’s right. We should start eating healthier around here. Doesn’t that nice little vegan café around the corner do take away?”

“If the aliens don’t get us, it’ll be the heart disease,” Ianto deadpanned. 

Jack grabbed a napkin and picked the pizza slice off the floor. He wiped up the sauce from the concrete and tossed it onto the top flap of the pizza box. “I’ll just eat the weevil’s food then.”

“Good. They shouldn’t be the only ones to suffer.” Ianto grabbed Jack’s wrist as he started to pick a bit of mushroom off the fallen slice. “I know what’s been spilled on this floor. Eat that and I won’t kiss you until Christmas, _sir_.”

“That’s cruel and unusual, Mr Jones,” Jack said with a lecherous grin. “I wouldn’t be the only one being punished.”

“Oh, I dunno, lots of other things we could do.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for instance, that thing you do with your—“

“So, Sirius Black,” Gwen interrupted, blushing. “What do we know about him?”

Ianto cleared his throat and turned to press a few buttons on his keyboard. “Not much really. Twenty years old, has a motorcycle license, and he’s from London.”

“Posh accent,” Jack said, staring mournfully at the pizza box. “And he’s got a boyfriend named Remus.”

“Boyfriend?” Gwen sighed. “It’s always the cute ones.”

“That’s never been a problem in my experience,” Jack said, flashing her a grin. “I remember this one guy—“

“Not the time, Jack,” Ianto said, bringing up a search field. He typed in Black’s name. “The only problem is there’s no such person. He doesn’t exist, or if he did someone’s wiped his records clean.”

“It could be an alias,” Gwen said and picked up the evidence bag with Black’s wand. “What about the boyfriend? Did you try his name?”

“We haven’t got a last name yet—he wasn’t too keen to answer our questions. Then again, how many people called Remus could there be in Cardiff? It’s not exactly a common name,” Jack said, eyeing Ianto as he hurriedly typed something.

“So we think he’s Welsh, do we?” 

“That’s what we’re assuming, but we could be wrong. We found Black in Bute Park when he came through the Rift on a negative spike. Chances are that's where he was when it took him.”

Ianto cleared his throat, biting back a smirk as the others turned to him, startled. He nodded to the monitor where a picture of a sandy haired boy was floating in front of the mainframe’s blue swirls. “He said the boyfriend’s name was Remus John Lupin when I asked. The only person in our records matching that was born 10 March 1960 and died 22 July 1964. He was ejected from the car when his mother swerved to avoid a dog and the car flipped. Apparently, they were on their way to visit her mother in Barry. His father was a policeman and his mother worked in a bridal shop until he was born. She blamed herself for her son’s death, and committed suicide two years after the crash. His father died earlier this year of pancreatic cancer.”

“Oh, the poor love,” Gwen said. She ran a hand through her hair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure that’s the only person with that name? I mean, I know it’s unusual, but if the boyfriend was alive when he left, shouldn’t he be alive here too? I mean, barring the obvious.”

“Positive,” Ianto said, turning around and leaning against the desk. He met Jack’s eyes from across the room. “Unless he’s from a different reality.”

“Is that even possible?” Gwen asked, looking between the two men. 

“No. The walls were sealed after the Battle of Canary Wharf,” Jack said, breaking Ianto’s gaze, and took the evidence bag from Gwen. He inspected the long, wooden object inside for a moment, carressing the carved handle through the thick plastic. “Ianto, did we run a scan on this?”

“I did when we brought his things back last night.” Ianto placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “It’s cyrprus wood with some sort of biological material, possibly non-human DNA, inside. We’ll need to do a core sample to match it with anything in the archives. Nothing to indicate it’s dangerous. Or anything at all, to be honest. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” A bisected mock-up of the inside of the wand appeared onscreen after he tapped a few keys. “Any ideas?”

“My guess would be it’s a magic wand,” Jack said and popped the bag open. He took it from it and turned it over in his hands. “Or at least that’s what Black claims it is.”

Gwen laughed in disbelief, covering her mouth with one hand. “Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing.”

“You said the same thing about faeries,” Jack said, his voice carefully even. “They killed three people and trashed your flat, remember?”

“So I was wrong about that,” she said, flapping her hand dismissively. “But they were _faeries_ , Jack. I mean, you don’t expect them to be so...malevolent!”

“I’d still say it’s all to do with magic mushrooms, but when you start to think about all the legends surrounding them and changeling children....” Ianto frowned, trailing off as Jack held the wand up and pointed it at an empty Starbucks cup sitting on the desk. “Should you really be pointing that at things?” 

“Who’s to say it’ll work for me?” Jack grinned and flicked his wrist. 

They watched the cup for a moment and held their collective breaths, waiting for something to happen that never did. 

“See?” Jack said as he twirled the wand between his fingers. “Nothing.”

“Maybe there’s an incantation?” Gwen supplied, leaning against the desk beside Ianto. She had one eyebrow raised and a smile in her eyes when she glanced up at him.

“Like invocation? By using certain words, the magic is focused and then channels the resultant energy through the wand, which is really little more than a physical conduit for said energy?” 

“Yeah. Something like that,” Gwen nodded emphatically. 

Jack tossed the wand up into the air, deftly caught it and pointed it at Ianto’s flies. “Open says-a-me.”

Ianto rolled his eyes while Gwen burst into a fit of giggles.

“You know,” Ianto said casually, “there’s still some of Owen’s instant decaf lying around.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he carefully placed the wand back in the evidence bag. Setting it back down on the desk, he smiled sheepishly at Ianto. He looked up at him through his lashes as he shuffled to him and wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

“Think about what could have happened if something had gone wrong,” Ianto said sternly, nevertheless relaxing into Jack’s embrace. “ _Really_ think about it for a minute.”

Jack blanched and shuddered. “I didn’t think about that.”

“As usual,” Ianto smiled and, winking at a still giggling Gwen, stepped out of his embrace. “I think we’re embarrassing Gwen.”

“Don’t mind me, boys,” she said, voice thick with barely contained amusement. “I don’t mind, really.”

Jack let out a nervous, breathy laugh of his own and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Now that I’m done making an ass out of myself, how about we get back to work?” He crossed his arms. “Ianto, did Glasgow ever send back item number six-six-four-seven-three?”

“It came in last Thursday’s post.”

“What’s item six-six-whatsit?” Gwen asked, sobering with a frown. 

“Alien tracking device. It came through the Rift a few years ago. Archie borrowed it to make sure Nessie wasn’t behind a spate of recent drownings. Gwen, see if you can find anything else out about this Lupin fellow. He mentioned the boyfriend was a werewolf—see if you can find anything Torchwood has on them besides what’s in the founding documents. Meet me in interrogation when you’re finished.” 

With a nod, Jack turned and started towards his office. 

“Tracking device?” Gwen called, frowning at him. “We’re not keeping him here?”

Jack stopped, back straight and shoulders tense. He turned to scowl at her. “I doubt he’d take well to the cells. I’m going to have to requisition a new door for the facility at Flat Holm. He blew a reinforced, military grade door it off its _hinges_ , Gwen.”

“Then clearly he’s dangerous. We can’t just let him go running about Cardiff!”

“Gwen,” Ianto said levelly. “Leave it.”

“No, I won’t bloody leave it, Ianto!” she said, rounding on him. “We’re still dealing with the shit the last strange man we crossed paths with left behind! I won’t lose you or Jack or the other half of this city because we haven’t taken the proper precautions!”

“And you think dancing around everything will bring them back? Make it feel any better? They’d want us to move on and do our _jobs_.” 

Gwen opened her mouth to say something, but closed it as Jack cleared his throat.

“This isn’t the time, _kids_ , so please save the catfight for later when I can enjoy it.” He glared between the two of them, frowning at Gwen’s determined look and Ianto’s eye roll. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gwen, he thought he was in prison. He panicked and more than likely couldn’t control his so-called powers, if we’re believing he’s telling the truth, thus the ruined door. He was our priority when we were there, but I guarantee there will traces of the same energy on it that we’re picking up on him. We’ll scan the door for it when we bring it in.”

“And by ‘we’ you of course mean me,” Ianto deadpanned. “Lovely.”

“No, I’ll see to it personally. That place is my responsibility.” He paused and stared down at the floor. When he raised his head again, his chin was stuck out defiantly. “If we lock him up, he’ll more than likely react similarly.”

“So where’s he going to stay? A safe house? Because that went so well the last time,” Gwen said sarcastically. 

Ianto watched Jack draw in a breath and hold it for a few seconds. “We’ll come up with something after we get his side of the story. In the mean time, I gave you orders. Hop to it. The sooner we get finished the sooner we can go home, Rift willing.” He looked between both of them. “Ianto, are those 3-D glasses still in my desk?”

“Top middle drawer by your stapler,” Ianto said with a nod. “Try not to tear everything apart when you can’t find them.”

“You wound me, Ianto,” Jack pouted and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not sorting everything this evening when I could be on my way out.”

“Fine,” Jack sighed and started towards his office again.

Ianto watched him disappear before pressing a button on the keyboard to print the profile on-screen. He turned to smile at Gwen. “If you don’t mind grabbing those, I’ll go find that device for Jack.”

“Ianto?” she asked, quickly meeting his eyes before glancing at Jack in his office. “You’re okay with this plan so far? We don’t even know this kid.”

“You didn’t know Emma.”

“But that was different! At least she was from the past.”

“So is he.”

“She was human; we don’t know he is yet. And look at what happened with John and Diane. What if something like that happens again?”

Ianto sighed and straightened his tie. “Who’s to say, Gwen? All we can do is make him as comfortable as possible for the time being.”

Gwen sighed, too, and walked over to the printer. She took the papers from the tray and skimmed over them. “But he’s not from our world, is he? I mean, we’d know if there was such thing as magic, right?”

“Jack doesn’t seem too impressed with the concept,” Ianto said and nodded before turning towards the archives. 

“Ianto?” Gwen said, her voice small. “I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just…I miss them.”

She was hugging herself, her shoulders slumped, when he looked back. “I know, Gwen. So do I.”

“Doesn’t it ever get to be too much for you, Ianto?” she asked so quietly Ianto could barely hear her over the hum of the machines and the soft susurration of the water tower. “I mean, we see so much shit and things like this wash through the Rift. I love this job, but I hate it so much some times.”

“Careful, Gwen. The last person who said something like that is down in the morgue with a bullet through her head,” Ianto said lightly and moved to wrap an arm around her. “To be honest, I try not to think about it, and when it does get too much I’ve got Jack.”

Gwen’s smile was fond as she leaned into him. “Like I’ve got Rhys.”

“Well, maybe not quite like Rhys. Jack only likes rugby for the, and I quote, ‘blatant homoeroticism.’”

“Whatever are we going to do with him?” 

“I would say we could punish him creatively, but he’d enjoy it too much.”

“Too much information, Ianto,” Gwen said with a wink. “I’ll just run through the police records, shall I?” She paused. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I know you miss them too.”

Ianto sighed and rubbed her upper arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I snapped,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean too.”

“You’re allowed to be angry. Now, we’d better get to work before Jack finds those glasses.”

“What’s he need those things for anyway?” Gwen asked as Ianto let her go. 

Ianto shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ll be in the archives.”

“And I’ll be looking for anything else about Remus Lupin”

“Try not to have too much fun.”

Gwen stuck her tongue out at Ianto as he walked away, their combined laughter echoing around the Hub.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the delay in updating. Between moving house and getting settled in I've barely had a free moment. The spotty wi-fi hasn't helped either. XD

Sirius woke with a start as the door banged open. He raised his head from his arms and stared groggily at Harkness and Cooper. He sat up and rubbed his eyes when he noticed the red and blue lensed glasses Harkness was wearing. 

“You look ridiculous,” Cooper whispered as he took the opposite chair him from under the table and turned it around. 

“Mr Black, do I look as silly in these as Gwen here seems to think I do?” he said as he sank down, arms crossed over the back of the chair.

Sirius looked between the two, not quite sure if Harkness was serious. At Cooper’s small nod, he said, “I think you look like a nutter.” 

Harkness chuckled heartily and pulled them off, sitting them by Sirius’s empty plate. “Well, you’re probably right, but I always say it’s function over form.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Leaning forward, he said, “If this is your interrogation technique, it’s awful.” He’d seen recruits straight out of Hogwarts with a better one. Even if Harkness was trying to unsettle him, it seemed a bit…silly. 

“And how would you know anything about interrogation techniques?” Harkness said, levelling that steely blue gaze at him. It was a bit disconcerting to have it directed at him, and it didn’t take much for him to realise what Harkness was implying about his own skills. 

“I’m an Auror back home,” he said, trying to shrug it off. What did it matter if he told them? He could just _Oblivate_ them if he had to once he got his wand back.

“And an ‘Auror’ does what exactly?” Harkness glanced back over his shoulder at the mirrored panel set high on the wall. 

Sirius looked up at it and frowned as Cooper reached for her ear. There was some sort of device concealed there, and he was almost sure Jones was watching from behind the two-way glass. He turned back to Harkness. “We’re sort of like MI5 for wizarding Britain.”

“But what do you _do_?” 

“Why should I tell you that? You do realise I could go to prison for having already told you much as I have!” Sirius snapped and leaned forward. No point in making it easy on them if they weren’t going to take him seriously. 

Harkness frowned at him. “We won’t let that happen, I promise, and I’m sure your superiors will understand if you divulged information to Torchwood in order to return home.”

There was something condescending in Harkness’s tone that Sirius didn’t like. “And just what gives Torchwood jurisdiction over the MLE?” 

“Her Majesty the Queen,” Harkness said, staring coldly at him. “We’re separate from the government, outside the police, beyond the UN. I’m sure we could work something out. Besides, I don’t think you’ll need to worry.”

Sirius looked between a frowning Cooper and coldly grinning Harkness for a moment. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a long way from home, Mr Black,” he said, fingering the glasses. “If there was indeed magic in this world, I guarantee you Torchwood would know about it. And there’s nothing in our archives, and only a handful of witch trials on this planet and in the known galaxies to even acknowledge the occult following of it. Well, unless you count the Vegas galaxies, but then they were always a bit too Derren Brown for my liking.” 

“You’re talking rubbish,” Sirius said, shaking his head. He didn’t believe a word Harkness was saying; of _course_ there was magic. He was proof of that. “There’s no way you’ve been to space. The Muggles had barely got to the moon by 1979.”

“Yeah well, in the next hundred years they’ll be going a lot farther than that,” Harkness quipped. “Now are you going to tell me what it is you do exactly?”

“Why?”

“Because Ianto and I told you about Torchwood. I know it may be a bit hard for you to believe, but however much ‘rubbish’ you think we’re talking I guarantee that’s how we’re feeling about your magic right now. And Gwen and I need to ask you some questions so we can do our best to help, maybe give your loved ones closure.” 

Harkness did have a point about sharing information. But his family? They’d be thrilled. “What kind of questions?” Sirius asked with a snort and glanced at Cooper from beneath his lashes. Maybe he’d get somewhere with the good cop.

“Just some things about yourself, sweetheart,” she said, smiling gently. “We just want to help.”

Sirius looked between them again. He looked up at the mirror and stared at his reflection, wondering just why he was still putting up a fight. Wouldn’t it be better to work with them if he had a chance at even trying to get home? After a moment, he let his gaze fall back to his companions. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Harkness said, grinning. “We’ll start with your real name.”

“What?” Sirius said, mouth agape. Why wouldn’t they know his name? They had his driving license. “You know my name.”

“We checked the records. You don’t exist,” Harkness said. He picked up the glasses and slipped them back on. “Which really isn’t that surprising considering you’re covered in Void stuff.”

Sirius rested his elbows on the table and ran his hands over his face. He could feel a headache coming on. “You’re talking nonsense again. I’m wearing a poor excuse for clothes and itchy wool socks. I’ve just had a shower. How could I be covered in anything?”

“It clings to things that have been through the Void—“

“You mean your Rift?” Sirius tried, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Rift, Void, he couldn’t keep track of half the strange things Harkness said. Why confuse him when he was just starting to come around to the idea that there was, indeed, a spatial-temporal schism in Cardiff? 

“The Rift is a crack in the fabric of space-time whereas the Void is the space between realities. It’s more than likely that while you were in your world’s Cardiff, the Rift took you, but for some reason it brought you here—pulled you across universes through the Void and into our world—instead of sending you to God knows what backwater planet.”

“What does that even mean?” he asked. “How can you tell?”

Harkness held the glasses out. “Put them on and see for yourself.”

“I still say you’re a nutter,” Sirius said, but did as he was told. 

He gasped as he looked down at his hands. There was something floating around them—and the rest of him when he jumped to his feet—something like small black particles. He snatched the glasses off and threw them on the table 

“What the fuck was that?” he yelled

“Background radiation. It’s nothing to be worried about,” Harkness said and frowned. “Well, not that we know of. That's Void stuff.”

“‘Stuff?’” He was covered in radioactive particles and they called it _stuff_?

Harkness waved his hand about dismissively. “It’s a highly technical term.”

“How is that possible?” 

“You should be dead,” Harkness said simply, and Sirius had to commend the way he didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Travel through the Void without a vessel is impossible. Two years ago, a race of creatures thought to be extinct in this universe came through in a Void ship. Another race of monsters came through behind them. Together, they destroyed Torchwood London, and if it wasn’t for the Doctor and Rose…well, that doesn’t matter now. Anyway, you didn’t have a ship, so I don’t think that matters.”

“So how the hell did I end up here then?” Sirius asked and collapsed into his chair, heart pounding as he wondered what Harkness hadn’t said. 

“That’s why we need to talk to you, sweetheart,” Cooper said. She crossed the table and knelt beside him, laying one of her soft hands on his. She smiled up at him, somewhere between a mother comforting a child and the police officer Harkness had said she was. “What happened before you were taken?”

“I was with Remus,” he said and swallowed, thinking back. Unconsciously, he turned his hand in hers and squeezed. “We’d been shopping and had got an ice cream before heading back to his mum’s. We were running late so we cut through Bute Park, and I was trying to weasel my way out of dinner. His aunt was in town; she doesn’t like me and the feeling is completely mutual.”

“Meeting the family,” Harkness said with a chuckle. “That’s always fun.”

“We’re going to need Remus’s last name,” Cooper said. “We searched for any him, but the only result we got is a bit questionable.”

Sirius frowned. He’d told Jones, but if they’d got a result, however tentative, for Remus and not him.... “He’s not a pureblood,” he said suddenly, making the connection. Of course. If there was no magic here, it made sense their might not be any of the old wizarding families.

The pair stiffened and looked between each other before turning back to him. 

“Pureblood?” Harkness asked, eyes narrowing as he regarded Sirius. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m a wizard with a bloody pedigree,” Sirius spat. He couldn’t blame Harkness for what he was thinking. He was fucking right, and that was why Sirius needed to get home. “Remus’s mum was a Muggleborn and his dad was a half-blood. That’s probably why you couldn’t find anything on me if magic doesn’t exist here. Blood purity is what the war we’re fighting is pretty much all about. One half-blooded madman who wants to rid our world of those with what he considers less than pure blood.”

“That sounds familiar,” Harkness drawled. He paused, a faraway look in his eyes that made Sirius shiver. Ah. Yes, it did sound familiar; that was what had been going on in Muggle Germany when Grindelwald came to power. He’d paid more attention in Muggle Studies than Remus had thought he did. “You mentioned Remus was a werewolf? Does that have anything to do with the war?”

Sirius shook his head. “He’s on our side. Voldemort was recruiting followers—some of the werewolves were going over to his side, but Remus was helping us fight him. He was working with them, trying to convince the others that Voldemort’s were false promises.”

Cooper gave his hand a final squeeze, and stood to key her earwig. She listened for a moment, before she set the files she had been holding on the table. “Torchwood has had past encounters with so-called werewolves, all non-terrestrial beings. Are you sure he’s human? From Earth?”

Sirius bristled, sitting straighter. He’d had this fight before. “I know him better than he knows his own self. Have done since we were at school. He’s as human as I am! He just has a furry little problem, that’s all. But there’s no space travel back home. And, save for a small faction of ours working with NASA, our world doesn’t seem too chuffed about getting into space. I mean, who cares about aliens when we’ve got magic!”

“All right, Mr Black. We still need Remus’s last name? Maybe his mother and aunt’s names as well?”

“Lupin. Anwen Lupin née Davies. His aunt’s name is Glynis,” Sirius said, looking between them as Cooper sucked in a breath and Harkness squared his shoulders. That certainly wasn’t good. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Jack?” Cooper asked, meeting his eyes as she leaned over the table.

Sirius watched him nod, his heart thundering in his chest. 

“Sweetheart, I think you need to take into consideration that this isn’t your world, and not your Remus,” Cooper said and opened the file. She laid out a picture of a smiling, sandy haired boy and a piece of paper with an official looking seal. They were all embossed with a stylised T. “Remus John Lupin was killed in a road accident when he was four.” 

Sirius looked over the paper, only picking out phrases as he skimmed over it. No, this couldn’t be right. Remus was alive, he knew that for a fact. But if there were only alien werewolves here... He took a deep breath to steady himself and set the paper down. Cooper was right. This wasn’t _his_ Remus. His eyes drifted to the photograph and Harkness pushed it towards him. He traced the edge of this Remus’s face, studying the fall of his hair, the chubbiness of his cheeks and smiling hazel eyes. So why did it still hurt so much? 

“Is this your Remus?” Harkness asked quietly and leaned forward to look at the photograph upside down.

Sirius chuckled darkly. “I was always his, but that’s not what you meant. This boy isn’t him. My Remus is twenty and alive and I’d bet he’s trying to hide the fact he’s beside himself from James right now.”

“James?” Cooper asked, smiling as she stepped closer and leaned her hip against the edge of the table. He swallowed when he saw the gun tucked into her jeans as her blouse rode up. What was it with these people? Were aliens always hostile or something? 

He cleared his throat and looked back down at picture. “The friend I was telling you about. He probably doesn’t exist in this world either. Or Peter. Or Dumbledore. Or anyone else I know. Or my pitiful excuse for a family, thank Merlin.” _And no Voldemort._

“And anyone who does happen to exist in both worlds wouldn’t know you,” Harkness said with a frown. “You’d never have met.” 

“I’d still want to know they were safe.” 

“Just don’t get any ideas,” Harkness said, taking a plastic bag with the same hexagonal pattern from his lap and laid it on the table. Sirius felt his jaw drop.

“That’s my wand!” he said and reached for it. “How did you—“

Harkness laid a hand over the bag. “We took it off you after you collapsed last night. We brought it back here because we’ve been getting some strange energy readings off the both of you.”

“I’m guessing that’d be something to do with my magic,” Sirius said, hand flexing reflectively. He could practically feel his palm itching. “May I have it back please?” 

Harkness smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s residual Rift energy coupled with the Void stuff, but whatever it is, our sensors don’t seem to think it’s anything dangerous. Now this”—he picked up the bagged wand—“is something else. Care to tell us about it?”

“It’s a wand,” Sirius said with a shrug. Even they could figure that out. “Every wizard has one. I got it when I was eleven for school.”

“What was the name of the school?” Harkness asked and pulled a pen from a pocket.

“Hogwarts,” Sirius said, watching as Harkness scribbled it on his palm, “but I doubt you’ll find it. It’s warded against Muggles. Sort of like that perception thing on your lift. Though I doubt it’s even there if there’s no magic.” 

“Where’s it located? We might be able to look into it,” Cooper said and smiled at him.

“It’s near a town called Hogsmeade in Scotland, but it’s a wizarding village. It’d be warded too,” Sirius said, frowning, and watched Harkness activated his communication device.

“Thanks, Ianto,” he said with a sigh. “What’s the nearest town?”

“Dufftown.”

“Lovely,” Harkness said, and turned to Cooper. “Gwen, could you see if Archie knows anything when we’re through here?”

“It’d help if I knew what I was looking for,” she said and looked at Sirius.

“Old, rundown castle to Muggles, pretty damn breathtaking one for wizards,” Sirius said as Cooper rolled her eye and stood up. “Anything else?”

Harkness opened the bag. Removing the wand and holding it out to Sirius handle first, he said, “I’ll believe in magic when I see it.”

Sirius grinned as he took it and saw Cooper place one hand behind her back. He looked at Harkness, a tight smile tugging at his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. It would be so easy to stun them and run, but if there was nothing he knew in this world…. He cleared his throat and stared down at the picture of Remus for a moment before muttering, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

As the picture started to float off the table towards the ceiling, he smiled to himself. “It’s just a simple charm. It’s one of the first things we learned in Charms. Quite useful when you’re rearranging the furniture.”

“I should imagine,” Harkness said, eyes following the photograph as it drifted back down to the table. “Gwen, I think you were right about the incantation.”

“Is this where I get to say I told you so?” Cooper teased and winked at Sirius. 

He gave her a small smile and placed the wand on top of the plastic bag. He didn’t think they’d be letting him keep it. 

Harkness picked the wand up and held it up to the light. “What’s it made of? I mean, I doubt a simple piece of wood is a powerful enough conduit.”

“Cypress wood with a core of dragon heartstring. Ten and a half-inches,” Sirius said and felt his cheeks burning at the lecherous look Harkness shot him. Good god, what was it with the man? “Not like that.”

“Of course not,” Harkness said with a wink. “So, I’m assuming dragons are ‘magical’ beings, thus their organic matter heightens the effects of your powers and concentrates them.” He tucked the wand back into the bag, sealing the zip top on the second try. “You make it yourself?”

Sirius shook his head. “Father took me to Ollivander’s shop in Diagon Alley after I got my letter from Hogwarts. It took the better part of two hours before Mr Ollivander found the right one. His family has been making the best wands in Britain since the fourth century.”

Harkness raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m guessing the wand is unique to each wizard.”

Sirius nodded, and couldn’t help but feeling a little proud of Harkness. He seemed to be taking it in stride now that he wasn’t fighting him. “No two are the same, and, while you can use another witch's or wizard’s, it doesn’t have the same effect.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Harkness said and shifted in his chair to draw one leg up under himself. “Care to tell us how you can turn into a dog?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to make me anyway,” Sirius deadpanned and Harkness smiled coldly at him.

“Our history with shapeshifters isn’t so good.” The American gave Sirius a look that sent a shiver down his spine, and there was an expression on Cooper’s face that said there was _definitely_ a story there.

“Like werewolves?” Sirius countered, scowling at him. If they so much as implied he was an alien, he didn’t know what he’d do. Probably something to get him sent back to that prison.

“Tell me about your ability, I’ll tell you what I know about the Torchwood werewolf,” Harkness said, ignoring Cooper’s protest, and raised his eyebrows. 

“Fine,” Sirius said, meeting Harkness’s eyes . “We—James, Peter and I—figured out Remus was a werewolf in our second year at school.” He paused, a grim smile tugging at his lips as he remembered. “He disappeared once a month. Said his mum was ill and that he went home to visit her, but he always came back with cuts and bandages and these horrible bruises. At first we though someone was hurting him, but eventually we realised it was always a full moon when he was gone. I guess we should have noticed that sooner than we did, but he was so quiet and kept himself to himself for the most part. 

“When we told him we knew, he thought we were going to tell our parents and have him removed from the school.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Even back then he had a good left hook, but he was our friend. We wanted to help him, but since we couldn’t be with him on the full moon as humans without being mauled, James came up with the idea of becoming Animagi—that’s what you call wizards who can turn into an animal.”

“So how does that work? Becoming one, that is?” Cooper asked.

“We started looking around the library for a spell or potion to do it. See, some wizards are born with the ability, but it’s rare. Very rare. There were only six on the register when we checked. After a while—and after checking our parents’ libraries and the Restricted Section at school—we finally found a potion halfway through third year. It took us until fifth year to perfect it, but it worked. Highly illegal, but being with Moony was worth it.”

“‘Moony?’” Harkness said with a grin. “I take it that’s a pet name for Remus’s other form.”

Cooper groaned and Sirius chuckled. Remus had felt the same way. “Yup. Remus was Moony for obvious reasons. I’m Padfoot since I’m a dog. James was a stag, so we called him Prongs, and Peter was a rat we called Wormtail.”

“How illegal?” Harkness asked. “What would have happened if you’d been found out?”

“There are worse things to go to Azkaban for,” Sirius said with a shrug. “We didn’t care. We were helping a friend. That’s all that mattered.” He met Harkness’s eyes. “Your turn, Captain. What does Torchwood have to do with werewolves?”

The American sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more than what it says in the founding documents. I wasn’t there when it happened.” He paused, eyes glazing for a moment before taking a deep breath. “In 1879, Queen Victoria visited Torchwood House while en route to Balmoral Castle. According to the record, there was a werewolf being held there by a group of monks who worshipped it. Long story short, it was an extra-terrestrial and wanted to take over the planet by biting the Queen and turning her into a werewolf herself. After what happened there, she set up the Torchwood Institute to protect Earth from such threats, even though the Doctor, an alien himself, stopped it from happening. That’s all you need to know.”

“So you’re not going to tell me what happened, exaclty, at the House to make her think the planet needed protecting?”

Harkness narrowed his eyes and leaned back. “Nope. It isn’t relevant at the moment, and the Institute has undergone some rather major changes since its founding.”

Sirius stifled a sigh. Typical bureaucratic nonsense. He looked down at the picture of Remus again. He felt his stomach do a flip and closed his eyes against the fear that started to rise. “What else do you want to know?”

“Do James and Peter have last names?” Harkness asked. “What about your family?”

“James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. They’re both purebloods like me so you probably won’t find anything. And I don’t give a damn about my family. I left when I was sixteen and haven’t looked back since.”

“Well, trying to find your friends couldn’t hurt,” Harkness said with a soft smile. “If that’s all you can tell us, we’ll look into getting you settled somewhere.”

“I don’t want to go back to that place,” Sirius said and flattened his hands on the table top. “I thought I was in Azkaban.”

“I take it that’s a wizard prison?” Harkness said and motioned for the file Cooper was holding.

Sirius swallowed and nodded as she handed it to Harkness. “It’s not a very nice place. You could lose your soul there.”

“Figuratively or literally?” He took the file and looked at the papers briefly. 

“Both.”

“Ah,” Harkness said and turned to look at Cooper. “Could you send Ianto in and run those names?”

“Sure,” Cooper said and smiled at Sirius. “If you need anything just ask, all right?”

Sirius nodded and watched her leave the small room. 

“These are for you,” Harkness said and set the folder down. “I thought maybe you’d want to know a little more about him in this world. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“This won’t affect anything with history or whatever, will it?” Sirius asked and traced his finger around the edge of the folder. “I mean, will me having this change anything? I’ve seen enough Muggle sci-fi films to know about things like that.”

Harkness chuckled and placed his hand over his. “If it would, I wouldn’t be letting you have it. Just remember he’s not _your_ Remus. I...I know what it’s like to be alone in a place where nothing’s familiar and you haven’t a clue what’s going on. I don’t want you to feel that way. Sometimes you just need a tiny little bit of home, no matter how far removed it may be.”

Sirius pulled his hand away. He regarded Harkness for a moment, wondering if perhaps he’d fallen through the Rift and/or Void too since he knew so much about it. Even without the period military clothing he looked like he didn’t quite fit in, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was that gave him away. “You don’t even know me.”

“You didn’t ask for this to happen,” Harkness sighed. “I know what it’s like to lose someone like that and I know what it’s like to be left behind. We can’t help Remus and we can’t send you home, but the least we can do is make you feel as welcome here as possible if you’re willing to meet us halfway.”

“Why can’t I go home?” Sirius said and balled his hands into fists. “I want to go home. I have a life there—friends, a cause, someone I love. That’s where I’m meant to be.”

Harkness didn’t look up as the door opened and Jones, in his shirtsleeves, stepped in. “Because travel between parallel worlds is impossible. You shouldn’t even be here—it could mean trouble. _Big_ trouble.”

“I don’t think it’s wise for me to be causing anymore ‘trouble,’” Sirius said with snort. Anything to stop them from pointing guns at him. “Does your lot still burn witches, then?”

“People are more accepting nowadays,” Harkness said and scowled at him. “They’re more accepting of a lot of things actually, and it’s only going to get better, but that’s not what I meant. If you came through from a parallel world, it could mean the walls between universes are breaking down.” 

“The Darkness is coming,” Jones sing-songed and stepped up behind Harkness. He laid his hands on the American’s shoulders, and the tension in them immediately disappeared as he leaned back into the Welshman’s touch. Sirius had to look away, a hot coil of envy unwinding through his chest. 

“Exactly,” Harkness exhaled. “I was hoping it was Abaddon.” 

“Maybe it was. If we’re lucky,” Jones sighed. Sirius watched as he massaged Harkness’s shoulders a bit before stepping away and stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re talking nonsense again,” Sirius quipped lightly. He stared resolutely down at his hands on the table, wondering if he’d ever be able to touch Remus like that again. “What’s going to happen to me now?”

***

“Well, we can’t let you go unsupervised,” Jack said and scooted back in the chair, unconsciously seeking out Ianto’s presence again. “You could stay here.”

“In this place?” Black said, eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. “In a cell? I’d rather sleep in the sewers.”

“Well, the company might be the same either way,” Ianto said as he fingered the tracking device in his pocket. He briefly wondered how the man would react when he met Janet. “But I don’t think that’s what Jack meant.”

“Right,” Jack said and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s a room under my office. I don’t us it much anymore, but you’re welcome to it. One of us can kip on the couch if you stay there. Or if you want to go outside, get acquainted with the world again, we can give you a tracking device and you can come home with one of us where we can monitor you. But you _have_ to wear the device. That part’s not negotiable.”

“So either way I’m a prisoner?” Black spat and crossed his arms. “Do I really need a guard?”

Jack growled and Ianto stepped forward. He placed his hand back on Jack’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. If anyone knew what it was like to be a prisoner of Torchwood, it was Jack. It didn’t matter that Black was a potential threat; after what had happened with John Ellis they would have been doing it for anyone. They couldn’t afford not to. 

“Think for a minute how you’d feel in the same situation,” he said, staring resolutely at the young man. “If Jack’s offering to let you go, I think that means he trusts you. We just want to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re safe. It’s standard to keep tabs on all refugees or asylum seekers that come to this planet. We’d offer you a safe house, but they’re all full up since a few planets seem to have gone missing.”

“Your safety is our priority,” Jack said, straightening in his chair as he leaned into Ianto’s touch. “If someone found out about your powers, they could try to exploit them. They could, to use your example, burn you at the stake if they were so inclined. Things are good, but not so great that people aren’t still idiots who’d rather lash out than attempt to understand. We want to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“What’s to stop you from trying to use them yourself?”

“Because I know what it’s like to have someone use your abilities for their own amusement. Trust me, we wouldn’t do that. The old Torchwood regime might have, but not us.” 

Black let out a breath and slid down in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment before taking the picture off the table. He stared sadly down at it, and when he looked back up at Jack and Ianto his eyes were glossed with unshed tears.

“Can I work for you?”

Jack laughed, and Ianto ducked his head to hid a grin. He couldn’t blame the man for trying. “Not if all you’re going to do is look for a way to get back.”

“What if I help you out around here?” Black said. “I could do admin stuff or walk the pterodactyl. Or maybe I could use magic to help around here. Ever had the dishes wash themselves up or the broom sweep the floor for you?” 

“Or we could falsify your documents and you could have a nice shop job. I hear Marks & Spencer is hiring.” 

“I don’t want to work at some shop,” Black spat and blew out an angry breath. “I want to actually do something worthwhile. I could have sat around like some posh twat at home, but I went into magical law enforcement and joined the resistance.”

“Right now what you’re going to do isn’t important,” Jack said tersely. “Once Gwen, Ianto and I talk, we’ll decide what’s best for everyone. We’ve got time to get you a job lined up, in a shop or not, but we need to get a roof over your head. The facility at Flat Holm would do nicely.”

“It’s a prison.”

“It’s a long term care facility for those who can no longer care for themselves,” Ianto said. “Everyone the Rift takes and returns we take there. They’re battered and scared in ways you can’t imagine, but you’re the exception. Now we can either come up with something or we can put you down in the vaults with the other shit the Rift spits out.”

Black looked at him as if Ianto had betrayed him. He didn’t feel guilty about it. Almost. “I just feel so useless. I don’t know where I really am or what to do.”

“You’re in Cardiff, Wales, on the planet Earth in the year 2008. The city has just been attacked, but it’s recovering. The Rift has been active for the past few weeks because of that, but it looks like it’s going to be calming down if the predictor is right. We’re tired, you’re lost, and I’m sure we all could use a little down time,” Jack said, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t think it’d do anyone any harm if you left the Hub. In fact, I think it’d help, but if you try anything—and I do mean _anything_ —you’ll be in the vaults so fast you’ll think you’re still in 1979.”

“But I have to wear a tracker to go out, don’t I?”

“It’s just a small precaution. Ianto,” Jack said and turned to look at Ianto, smile tight and looking anywhere but at him, “do you have it with you?”

“You wound me, sir,” Ianto said, smiling at him as he pulled the device from his pocket. 

It was a long chain of dark, light-weight metal with clear beads set at regular intervals. The metal was warm against Ianto’s palm as he held it out for Black to see.

“It’s simple enough. It uses body heat to power itself and activates once you put it one,” he explained and handed it to Jack. 

“Our technician found the frequency it works on a few years ago,” Jack said, letting his fingers ghost across Ianto’s palm as he took the device. “Waterproof, bulletproof, and good up to a half-light year away.”

“So you can follow me if you wanted?” Black said, his hand twitching as if to reach for it.

“You can have your freedom, more or less, but the city’s changed a lot since the Seventies, and we don’t know what else is different about this world and yours,” Jack said and held it by both ends. “It’d be best if you had one of us with you until we’ve got everything sorted.” 

Black nervously rubbed at his left wrist before holding it out. “Is it always so cold in here?”

“Pretty much,” Ianto deadpanned. “The human furnace here won’t let us change the thermostat.”

“Hey! I don’t complain about your place, you don’t complain about mine,” Jack said with a smile as he looped and then tied the tracker around Black’s wrist. The beads glowed a soft rosy pink for a moment before it fit itself to his wrist. 

“You know, I would complain to the boss but he’s just as bad as you are,” Ianto quipped and tucked his hands into his pockets with a small smile at Jack’s glare. “So, Mr Black, what’ll it be?”

“I don’t fancy staying in this place,” he said, not looking up as he traced the device with the fingers of his right hand. “It’s dank.”

“I should be insulted,” Jack said, but gave Ianto a small smile. “Fine, then. I don’t blame you. That room under my office is a bit claustrophobic now that I think about it. However, I don’t think Gwen’s husband would be too happy if she brought home a handsome young man, so...Ianto?”

Ianto frowned at Jack. It’s not that he necessarily minded putting up their guest, it was just such short notice. Jack could have told him what he was thinking sooner, but the innocent look the man was wearing told him he knew how much trouble he was in for. “The flat’s a mess, but you’re welcome to my sofa.”

“No spare room?” Black asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“Hardly any room at all, really,” Ianto shrugged. “I was using the spare room for storing all the boxes while we close on the new place.”

“Bloody red tape,” Jacks said, earning a playful smack on the arm from Ianto. 

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” Black said, meeting Ianto’s eyes. “I could stay here if I’d be in your way.”

“It’s really no trouble at all, Mr Black,” Ianto said. It really wasn’t, not with how much time he and Jack spent together now. Two sets of eyes watching him would be better than one.

“Oh,” Black said quickly, as if just remembering it, and picked up the picture of Remus. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course,” Jack said and pushed himself out of the chair. He brushed Ianto’s thigh, hand lingering longer than necessary, as he tucked the chair back under the table. “The files too if you want. If you’ll just follow Ianto, I’ll go see what Gwen’s got for us and we’ll head out.”

“What about clothes?” Black said, staring up at Jack with a frown. “I look ridiculous in these scurbs or whatever they’re called. I can’t go out wearing these. How about some real ones? The ones I was wearing when you found me?”

“I think your old ones were a bit worse for the wear,” Jack said. “We’ll try to get you some new ones tomorrow after we’ve all got some rest. I don’t know about you, but I’m dead on my feet.” 

“Fine,” Black exhaled. He seemed to deflate as he slouched. “What time is it?”

“Half two,” Jack read off as he checked his watch. He stood, hand squeezing Ianto’s knee. “Mind hanging around here for a few hours? Maybe have a cup of coffee and play fetch with the dinosaur?”

“Fine with me,” Black sighed.

“Right,” Jack said and looked back at Ianto before starting towards the door. “You might want to check in autopsy.”

Ianto watched Jack’s retreating form, waiting for the door to close behind him before he turned to Black. “Now, why don’t we see if Jack hasn’t moved Owen’s things to long term storage yet? You’re about his size, though I doubt you’ll find anything you like.”

“Who’s Owen?” Black asked, brows furrowing. “Harkness said you lost some people.”

“You can call him Jack, if you want,” Ianto said quickly, his face expressionless. He didn’t like thinking about what happened still. “Owen was our medic.”

“Was?”

“He’s gone now.”

“Gone how?”

“Just gone. One of the hazards of this job,” Ianto said curtly and motioned for Black to stand. After a moment, he sighed and smiled wanly at him. “How does a nice curry sound for dinner? We haven’t done a curry in a while.”

Black stared at him for a long moment before nodding, and Ianto had the distinct feeling that he could more than empathise with him. He’d said he was fighting a war a home; it only stood to reason he’d lost friends, too. “Sounds fine to me.”


	11. Chapter 11

The flat was too quiet and still when he walked through the door. Looking around the small front room, Remus couldn’t miss the rolls of parchment Sirius had strewn over the coffee table, the beer bottle balanced on the edge of one of the end tables, and Sirius’s leather jacket still draped on the back of his own favourite chair. 

Remus bit his lip, tasting copper, to stop the tears as the stagnant silence stabbed into him. The door closed behind him with a soft _schnick_ and locked itself as he lifted his wand in habit. Walking through to the kitchen, he tossed his cloak over the back of one of the mismatched chairs at the table and hastily began to fumble in the nearest cabinet for the tea.

Pulling the tin down with trembling hands, he flicked on the kettle before reaching for one of the mugs left to dry on the rack by the sink. As he reached for his, his hand shook, knocking Sirius’s Magpies mug into the sink with a clatter. He swore as the rim chipped on the morning’s bowls, and with great care he took it from the basin and raised it to his chest. If he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined hard enough, he could pretend the clock turned back to that morning when he had stood in this very spot, Sirius’s hands on his hips and lips on his neck as he begged him to forget the washing up and come back to bed.

*** 

The flat complex was nothing special, Sirius thought, as he followed Jones and Harkness up the stairs. He could feel the day’s events quickly catching up with him. His legs and arms felt like they were made of lead and he could feel exhaustion slowly setting in as he stifled a yawn. Despite the shower back at the Hub, he still felt dirty and the scrubs he wore were, on top of the noise they made when he walked and the garish colour, itchy in places he thought ought not to itch. 

“Is it much further?” he asked as they started up the fourth flight of stairs and gripped the railing. His calves were cramping, thighs spasming and there was a funny sort of twinge in his chest. 

“Just one more floor, Mr Black,” Jones said, turning to give him a small smile. “I’m sorry the lift’s out. Hopefully it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.” 

Harkness chuckled. “At least it’s good cardio, but I could think of a better way to burn calories.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes. He didn’t know whether he wanted to shout or cry with joy when Jones shifted the carrier bags in his hands to pull out a set of keys and pulled open the stairwell door. Sirius followed them down the hall and rocked back on his heels as Jones fumbled with the lock before opening up apartment 5D. 

“I’ll apologise again for the mess, Mr Black,” Jones said as he opened the door and walked in. 

“I guarantee I’ve seen worse,” Sirius said, walking into the flat when Harkness motioned for him to go ahead of him. He glanced around the open plan living area and kitchen and chuckled. “You call this a mess?” 

There were three boxes by what looked like a television, labelled “DVDs & CDs,” “Books” and "Miscellaneous Crap" in a large, neat hand. In addition to the newspapers and books scattered across the coffee table, a pair of braces and y-fronts hung off the back of the couch and a few half packed boxes sat haphazardly around the room. The kitchen was spotless save a pair of mugs on the draining rack and a thin silver box sitting on the table. Sirius frowned at it; embossed on the top was a picture of an apple with a piece missing. 

“I lived in the halls with four other boys for seven years,” Sirius said and grinned at Jones. “This is immaculate compared to that.” 

Jones grimaced and Harkness chuckled as he locked the door behind them. 

“I should hope so,” Jones grumbled and went into the kitchen. He sat the bags on the worktop and shed his suit jacket, carefully hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as Harkness pulled plates down from the cupboard. 

Sirius stood in the doorway and watched as they moved about the small space, easily dodging each other in a well practiced dance as Harkness placed the plates on the table and Jones opened two bottles of beer. He bit his lip as he thought of Remus pretending to gripe about the state of their own kitchen and how bad for them the constant takeaways were. He scrubbed at his eyes as a sudden surge of emotion hit him and cleared his throat. 

Jones stopped removing the take-away cartons from the bag and looked up at him.

“May I use your loo?” Sirius asked and looked down at the bamboo floors to avoid meeting the Welshman’s eyes. He didn’t want him to see his tears.

“Of course,” Jones said and smiled up at him as he moved over to another cupboard and took down a glass, which he handed to Harkness. “It’s the second door on the left. I’ll, erm, just get you some clothes you can borrow until we get you some of your own. Those things can’t be too comfortable for you. I am sorry we’d couldn’t find you anything else.” 

“They’re fine,” Sirius said half-heartedly, stepping back into the entryway to let Jones pass. He hurried through the living area and down the hall behind him, fumbling with the knob twice before opening the door. He closed it gently and fell back against it, willing away the tears at the sound of drawers being opened and shut in haste drifted down the corridor. 

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, he looked at the small vanity and felt his stomach lurch at the sight of _two_ toothbrushes, _two_ towels hanging from the rack, and _two_ different kinds of shaving foam flanking the faucet. He closed his eyes and rushed to the sink. He splashed his face and neck with the chilly water and tried to drown the little voice that taunted him with thoughts of _gone forever_ , _so far from home_ and _never again_. 

He turned the tap off and gripped the edge of sink. He concentrated on breathing for a long moment, on the simple pattern of slowly drawing air into his lungs and trying not to hyperventilate. After a long moment of staring down at his hands and the toothbrushes—a new red one leaning against a slightly used pale blue reminiscent of the green and purple ones by his own sink—he raised his head and looked in the mirror. 

His eyes were red, a stark contrast to the paleness of his cheeks. He sighed and met his reflection’s gaze, trying to ignore the same lifelessness in them he’d seen in Remus’s when his father had been killed. He started, his heart leaping into his throat, when there was a gentle knock on the door. 

Jones was on the other side when he opened it. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. In his arms were a pair of track bottoms and a plain white vest. 

“They might not fit as well as yours,” he said and offered the clothes to Sirius, “but they’ll have to do.” 

Sirius reached out from them, trembling hands brushing Jones’s as he took the clothes from him. “Thanks, mate.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “We could go shopping in the morning if you’d like. Get you settled in some clothes of your own.” 

Sirius looked down at the bundle and sighed. It was funny; he had more money than he knew what to do with just sitting inside his vault at Gringotts and yet he hadn’t a knut to his name here. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be on Torchwood,” Jones said with a half-smile. “We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Sirius smiled to himself and rubbed his hand over the vest. It was worn, yet soft, well-laundered and well cared for. “You’re being too kind. I should be in your cells.” 

Jones reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sirius looked down at it as Jones gave his shoulder a squeeze before looking up at his face. “You didn’t ask for what happened. It wasn’t your fault. It’s our job to make sure you’re all right.” 

“Is that it then? Just caring because it’s your job?” 

“No, Sirius. I care because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be human anymore,” Jones whispered, something dark creeping across his eyes. “I was at Torchwood London when it fell. Their motto was ‘if it’s alien, it’s ours.’ They didn’t care about what or who they hurt as long as they did their job, but they got cocky and a lot of people died. Even here we see some of the worst shit, and it’s our job to stop it, clean up and move on even when it hurts. To be honest, there are days when it hurts so much you think it’s impossible to care for anything ever again when there’s so much hopelessness. But we go on and we learn and we always find the good, no matter how small, because that’s all that really matters. It’s when you stop caring, when you lose your hope, it means this job had finally got to you.” 

Sirius looked up at him. Jones couldn’t have been much older than he was, but there was a shadow in his eyes and a firm set to his brow and jaw. It was odd to see that in such a young face, but something in him was glad to recognise in the young Welshman a kindred soul. “It’s not easy, is it? Working for Torchwood?” 

“Most of the times, no,” Jones said with a shake of his head, “but at least it’s never boring. I’ll leave you to get changed. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.” 

“All right,” Sirius said, closing the door as Jones turned down the hall. He sighed and started to change. The bottom were too long and about a size or two too large, but they felt better than the scrubby whatsits. The vest had the same spicy aroma as Harkness’s greatcoat, the scent again tickling his nose as he slipped it over his head. He smoothed down the front and looked in the mirror again. He ran a hand through his hair and, deciding he looked like a kid playing dress up in his dad’s clothes, headed out. He could hear Harkness talking animatedly and Jones’s soft laughter.

Harkness looked up at him as he entered the kitchen, one eyebrow cocked as he sat down at the table. Sirius sighed as he took the beer Jones handed him and took a long swig. He let the American’s voice wash over him as he started on his chicken tikka, half-listening as the man told of windy aliens inside Number 10. 

Harkness was gesticulating as he talked, threatening to knock over his glass of water or fling the food precariously balanced on his fork across the room. Sirius watched as Jones reached across him to move his water, the Welshman’s laughter filling the void as Harkness’s mouth closed in a pout. Sirius stared down at his food as Harkness smiled and, reaching up, ran a hand across Jones’s cheek, a soft look on his face as Jones blushed. 

He quickly took a too large bite and chewed. The food was tasteless, the beer not strong enough, and sitting in a stranger’s warm kitchen in a stranger’s clothes felt wrong. He sat his fork down as his hand started to shake and closed his eyes. 

“So he says to the guy, ‘that’s not a hoix, that’s my wife!’” he heard Harkness say and his lips reflexively twitched upwards at Jones’s groan. 

“What’s next, Jack? A weevil, a weeping angel and a Wirrn walk into a bar?” Jones groused. “Honestly, my nephew has better jokes than that.” 

“But he’s eight,” Harkness said with a pout. Sirius looked up and away again as Jones leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the American’s lips. 

“I know,” Jones deadpanned, eyes sparkling as he pulled back.

“What’s a hoix?” Sirius asked quietly, cursing his trembling hands as he reached for his beer. He took a long drink before he glanced back at Harkness, and a flash of understanding crossed the American’s face. 

“It’s a big, ugly creature that lives to eat,” Harkness said with a lopsided grin. “They don’t really care what as long as it’s relatively palatable…to them at least.” He paused for a moment with a mischievous, faraway look. “I was stalked by one once. Long story.”

Sirius levelled his eyes. He didn’t know if should even believe half of what the American said. “You aren’t joking, are you? Creatures like that really exist here?” 

“Yup,” Harkness said with a nod. “They exist here and out there—“he pointed upwards“—and no one has any idea what it’s going to be like when humans finally walk among the stars.” 

“And the Rift?” 

“Brings them here if they don’t come on their own,” Jack said and reached across the table to lay a hand on his forearm, “and takes things. We can’t predict when it’ll take. The best we can do is predict when it’ll most likely be active; our machines pick up anything regardless when it is.” 

Sirius swallowed, or tried to as his mouth was dry and his throat clenched, and fought back fresh tears. Not again; he had no doubt James would be telling him how much of a big girl he was being if he were with him. “And I’m really on a completely different world? No magic, no Remus or James or Peter, no anything familiar. Right?” 

Harkness nodded and Sirius stifled a sob, hating himself when it escaped anyway, and buried his head in his hands. To his surprise, he didn’t flinch when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders turning him into a strong chest, Harkness's unusual sent overwhelming him. 

“I’m sorry,” Harkness whispered into his ear and Sirius clung to him as he let the man rock him slowly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Why me?” Sirius choked. He heard the scrape of a chair on the floor and the soft patter of Jones’s bare feet on the floor. As the sound of a drawer clattering open filled the small kitchen, he whispered again, “Why?” 

He felt Harkness press a kiss to his hair. “Shit happens,” he said quietly. “Shit happens to good people in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“We were going to visit his family,” Sirius whispered with a sniffle. He buried his head into Harkness’s neck as he felt the man reach for something. His hand was closed in a tight fist when it rested on his back again and he heard the clunk of a glass on the table. He felt a rush of air as Ianto moved around them and stood behind Harkness. “I was going to be godfather to James and Lily’s baby. This can’t be happening.” 

“But it _is_ happening,” Harkness said and pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “You have to accept that.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” Sirius spat, pulling away and meeting Harkness’s stormy blue eyes. 

Harkness’s expression hardened, his shoulders stiffening and jaw clenching. “Then I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

Sirius felt his stomach drop at the look of agony that washed over Harkness’s face when it crumpled. As Jones wrapped his arm around his waist and the man leaned back into him, Sirius felt his anger begin to dissipate. For now. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice quiet even in his own ears. He sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “I didn’t mean that.” 

Harkness didn’t look up. Instead, he sighed and fixed his gaze on a knick on one of the table legs. “The last time someone fell through time, he killed himself. I should have seen it coming, should have made more of an effort to stop him.” He paused and took a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed. “I thought we had a connection, but nothing I could have done would have stopped him in the end. 

“It’s up to you, Sirius. You can give up hope or you can make a new life for yourself. You can start over with a clean slate. New name, new identity, new everything. You can’t go back without putting reality as we both know it at risk, no matter how much you want to.” 

Sirius’s breath shuddered as he leaned forward and a few tears trickled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to work in a shop. I did something worthwhile at home.” 

Harkness finally looked up and met his eyes. There was melancholy in them that made Sirius’s chest ache. 

“Then you better make damn sure I can trust,” Harkness said slowly. “We’re down a few people, and I’m sure we could all us a little help out around the Hub. Paperwork, getting lunch, general maintenance. Double-cross us and you’ll wish the Rift hadn’t been so kind as to leave you unscathed.” 

Sirius watched as Harkness reached for one Jones’s hand and linked their fingers together. Sirius looked between the Welshman’s surprised face and the American’s blank one. “You mean I can work for you?” 

“No fieldwork, no leaving the Hub unsupervised, just making yourself useful after I’m sure you’re up for it,” Harkness said hollowly. 

“And if I’m not?” 

“I’m sure we can find a place for you at the Flat Holm facility.”

Sirius bristled and sat up straighter. He wasn’t going back there. Ever. “I’d rather you shot me.” 

“Don’t tempt me. I don’t mean as a resident. Helen thought the patients quite liked your...other form, but either way I’m sure she could use some more hands around there, just like we could,” Harkness said and, letting go of Jones’s hand, took one of Sirius’s. He flattened out his palm and placed two small pink pills on it. “They’ll help you sleep.” 

Sirius frowned down at them. “That’s all they’ll do?” 

“Positive,” Harkness said with a small smile that didn’t meet his eyes. 

“But it’s only,” Sirius looked around the kitchen for a clock, “eight-ish?” 

“And you’ve had a rough two days,” Harkness said and closed Sirius’s fist over the pills. He stood with a small groan and grabbed onto Jones’s arm for support as his knee popped. “Take them.” 

Sirius followed Harkness’s hand as it trailed down Jones’s arm to lace their fingers together again. He sighed and took the glass of water beside him, feeling a few more tears slide down his cheeks as he swallowed the pills. 

“I’ll just go grab some spare blankets then,” Jones said and left the room, Harkness refusing to let go of his hand until absolutely necessary. Sirius nodded his thanks to the American and prayed his sleep would be dreamless and free of visions of Remus, alone and broken, flashing behind his eyes. 

*** 

“Well, I just explained what a DVD is,” Ianto said as he closed the bedroom door behind him. He tossed the briefs from the couch and Jack’s braces into the laundry basket. “Twice.”

“He’s curious,” Jack said, stopping his typing and looking up at Ianto over the laptop. “They didn’t have those back then.” 

“Yeah, well,” Ianto said, turning back the blankets on his side of the bed, “Tosh knew more about how they work than I do.” 

He saw Jack purse his lips as he closed the computer. After a moment, he said in a hoarse whisper, “She was brilliant.” 

Ianto looked up from undoing his flies and frowned at Jack for a moment. “That she was.” 

“I miss her,” Jack said quietly and traced the Apple logo. “She’d know what to do with the wand and those readings.” 

Ianto sighed, kicking off his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head before climbing onto the bed to straddle Jack’s lap. He placed a hand on top of Jack’s, pulling it away from the laptop to kiss the pulse at his wrist. “We’ll figure something out.” 

“Yeah.” Jack sat the laptop on the bedside table by his wrist strap and turned to wrap his arms around Ianto. He pressed a kiss to his chest before resting his forehead against it. “Do you think I did the right thing telling him he could hang around the Hub?” 

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips to Jack’s hair. “I had to chase you for how many days, tempt you with caffeine and be threatened with vehicular homicide, but yet you hire him as quickly as you did Myfanwy,” he quipped sarcastically, but it fell flat. “I’m beginning to think you didn’t want me.” 

Jack chuckled softly and Ianto smiled as Jack trailed his hands up his back, cupping his shoulders and pulling him closer. “Oh, I wanted you all right.” 

“You just liked the suit,” Ianto chuckled when Jack shifted his hips. 

“Well, no one looks as good in one as you,” he said. “He reminded me of John just then. And Alex. And me when I realised how long I’d have to wait for the Doctor.” 

“Oh, Jack,” Ianto said. He turned, placing a kiss to his cheek, and tightened his arms around him. “He’s better off where one of can keep an eye on him, just in case.” 

Jack sighed, his breath warm against Ianto’s neck. He nudged Ianto’s chin, stealing a quick, supping kiss…two…three. “Besides, we can’t just let him loose on Cardiff with so-called magical powers.” 

“But we can’t just welcome him to the team. We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“We won’t,” Jack croaked, tensing in his arms. “We let him think that. We’ll see what he can do and if he could be useful to us. If not, we could use him full time in the tourist office or find him something else.” 

“And where will I go to get away from you lot, then?” 

“A person could get lost in the Archives, you know,” Jack said lightly and pressed a kiss to Ianto’s collarbone before nipping at it. 

“I could leave a trail of breadcrumbs for you,” Ianto said, shivering as Jack ghosted his fingertips along his side. “On second thought, I’d just have to clean them up.” 

Jack chuckled half-heartedly as his hands came to rest on Ianto’s hips, gripping tight enough to leave a mark, and just as Ianto was leaning in his whispered, “I’m sorry, Ianto.” 

“Whatever for?” Ianto asked, and ran a hand through Jack’s hair when he wouldn’t look at him. 

After a moment, he leaned into the touch, letting his head loll back. Ianto could see each of Jack’s long years in his eyes, and it ached to see them in a face that looked so very young. “I’m sorry for leaving like I did with the Doctor. I know I hurt you.” 

“We’ve been over this, Jack,” Ianto whispered and closed the distance between them, fingers tangling in soft stands, letting all the emotion they had refused for so long to put a name to flow through a kiss that had Jack moaning into it. “I’ve already forgiven you. We all have. Had. Have.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Jack said, leaning back. He took one of Ianto’s hand in his and brought it to his own cheek. “I really don’t.” 

“And yet here I am. You can’t blame yourself for what he’s going through, Jack.” 

“Yes, I can. I’m a selfish old bastard who never can do anything right.” 

“You save the world at least once a week,” Ianto said, letting his hand fall from Jack’s cheek. He shifted to sit next to him, one arm around Jack’s shoulder as he leaned back against the headboard. He smiled as Jack sighed and turned into him, resting his head on his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his middle. “You gave me a second chance when I didn’t deserve one.” 

“Because I still wanted you,” Jack said bitterly. 

“Don’t think for one second that my feelings weren’t the same, no matter how much I thought I should hate you or tried to blame you. You are not the monster I claimed you were. You saved me.” 

“And one day I won’t be able to,” Jack whispered. “I’ll have to watch you die, knowing there was nothing I could have done to stop it. Just like Owen and Tosh. Just like I’ll have to with Gwen and Martha and the Doctor and everyone else I’ll ever love.” His voice cracked, and he pressed his lips to the nearest patch of skin, slowly trailing kisses upwards. 

"All I keep thinking about," he whispered into Ianto's ear, lips teasing the shell and making Ianto tremble, "is how lost he must feel, how his boyfriend and friends must be worried, and how much I hurt you and the team when I left without a word to go with the Doctor." 

"You did what you had to," Ianto said and turned his head to kiss Jack properly, eyes squeezing shut as they clung to each other. 

"You came back," he said, resting his forehead against Jack's when the need for air became too great. "You came back when you could have stayed with him." 

"I would have been throwing away the things that mattered most," Jack whispered and cupped Ianto's cheeks. "I came back _for you_. And I always will. Don't ever doubt that. I lo--" 

Ianto silenced him with a quick kiss and shifted further under the covers, pulling Jack down with him. He slipped his hands under Jack's vest, gasping as Jack thrust his growing erection against his thigh. He pulled Jack's shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. "It doesn't need saying, Jack."

"You sure about that?" he asked, nuzzling the line of Ianto's jaw.

Ianto nodded. "I don't need to hear it you say to know it’s true."

Jack smiled the soft, private smile Ianto liked to think was reserved for him alone. "And if I want to say it? _Need_ to?"

"Then I'll say it back," he whispered, meeting Jack's lips and let his hands drift over Jack’s warm skin.


	12. Chapter 12

Remus met James and Peter by the castle gates at half eight the next morning. If they noticed his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes, they didn’t mention it. Instead James nodded and clapped his shoulder, hand lingering a second longer than strictly necessary. His smile when Peter hugged him quickly turned into a frown as the man winced as his forearm knocked against Remus’s elbow.

“All right, Peter?” he asked when they pulled away.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his embarrassed laugh high and thin. “The cat knocked the kettle over this morning. Guess who was standing too near?”

“Ouch,” Remus said, cringing in sympathy, and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“You know me. Clumsy old Wormtail,” Peter quipped, self-depricating, and cleared his throat. “H-how are you holding up, Remus?”

Remus sighed and picked at the fraying hem of his sleeve. “The sooner we get this sorted, the better.”

Peter nodded and looked over his shoulder at James.

The dark haired man cleared his throat and motioned towards the castle. “Maybe we should go on up?”

“Yeah,” Remus mumbled, wrapping his cloak and arms tightly around himself. As he followed James and Peter up the path leading to Hogwarts and through the oaken front doors, he let his mind wander. Thoughts of Sirius—where and when he possibly was, if he was safe, if he was missing them or having the time of his life—drifted through his head as they passed through the corridors and up the labyrinthine staircases. If the students milling through the halls noticed him and his companions, they paid them little notice. 

Around every corner was a reminder of Sirius: a hastily stolen kiss, a prank gone awry, a fight with one of the Slytherins. As engrossed in his thoughts as he was, he missed the concerned look James and Peter shared. 

“Sorry,” he muttered as he ran into Peter when they stopped in front of the statue concealing the entrance to Dumbledore’s office

“You sure you’re all right?” James asked again, frowning as he glanced at Peter. “If you’d rather sit this out—“

“No,” Remus said curtly and glared at them. “I’m not made of glass nor do I need to be handled like it. If we’re going to get Sirius back, I’m going to help.” 

“All right, mate,” Peter said. “Listen, if I can do anything, let me know. I could come round this afternoon with some of Mum’s shepherd’s pie maybe.”

“He’s missing, Wormtail, not dead,” James said tersely. Looking between his friends, he placed a hand on their shoulders and added, “This isn’t easy on any of us. We’ll get him back. Together.”

“And if we can’t? If he’s just...gone?” Remus cursed his voice when it cracked.

“We _will_ find him, Moony,” James said, gently shaking him. “I won’t rest ‘til I’ve got my best mate back.” He paused. “Besides, he’ll wish he’d have stayed gone if he manages to miss the birth. Lily’d never let him forget it.”

Remus managed a strained smile of his own. “We’d better get him back soon, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” James said and stepped back. He turned around to face the gargoyle. “Ready?”

“Yep,” Peter squeaked and took a half-step of his own towards the carved creature.

“Let’s do this,” Remus said, steeling his shoulders as he pushed aside his doubts for the time being.

“Fizzing Whizzbees,” James called and the gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the winding staircase. 

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Peter asked as they started forward.

“And it’s still all Padfoot’s fault,” James said, throwing them a grin as he jogged up the stairs.

Remus followed, Peter on his heels, and laughed. He was surprised when the echo didn’t sound hysterical. “At least this time I hope I won’t have to come up with some half-arsed excuse to save yours.”

“Could we still blame it on Snivellus?” Peter called up, his breathing loud and slightly laboured. 

“We could try, but I doubt it’d do any good.” James’s voice trailed off as he reached the top of the steps. 

James waited until Peter had reached the landing before raising his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. On the other side, Dumbledore stood in his travelling cloak and a frowned tugged his lips downward. He looked tired as he regarded them for a long moment before stepping back to let them enter. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to make this quick,” he said as they filed past him. The door banged shut as he closed it and Fawkes cried out in protest. Dumbledore chuckled and regarded the bird firmly as he turned on his perch, his feathers ruffled. “I’ve just had word from the Ministry regarding the blue box. Mr Pettigrew, has Mr Potter filled you in about all that has happened?”

Peter blushed, looking down at his shoes and tucking his hands into his pockets out of habit. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night. Mum wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t leave her.”

Dumbledore dismissed his excuse with a wave of his hand. “I hope she’s doing better.” He smiled and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat, gentlemen.” 

Peter obliged almost immediately, falling back into old habits, and James slid into the other chair when Remus declined it. Instead, he crossed to the window and stared down at the grounds. He could feel Dumbledore’s gaze on him, but didn’t turn, didn’t flinch as he heard the scratching of Dumbledore’s chair against the floor.

“So, how are we getting him back?” James said, voice tight. “I’m not leaving this office until we’ve come up with something.”

Dumbledore chuckled, and Remus turned his head enough to watch the man settle back in his chair. 

“I may have found a way of getting us into the Department of Mysteries. However, you, Mr Potter, are not going to like it.”

“Bollocks,” James said, deflating, and Remus smiled to himself. “Why not?”

“Because I can only get myself and two other people inside. We’ll need you to monitor everything from your desk. The first sign of trouble, you send me your Patronus.”

Remus turned around in time to see James’s pout. Leaning back against the windowsill, he asked, “So where do the rest of us come in?”

Dumbledore looked between him and Peter before sitting up straight. He pulled out one of his desk drawers, rummaging in it before removing two shimmering purple vials. He sat them on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin as he leaned back. “You and Mr Pettigrew will be accompanying me into the Department of Mysteries.”

“But they’ll never let us in,” Peter said, his voice shaky. “Remus and I are civilians. Not to mention Remus’s...condition. They won’t let him past the entrance.”

Remus noted the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye. “Quite right, Peter. As it may be, myself and my dear friend Nicholas Flamel have been asked to have a look at the TARDIS. Unfortunately, Nicholas is away on business in Florence and won’t be back until early next week.”

James snorted. “Great. Hope he gets in a few sights while he’s there. But that helps us how?”

“Nicholas’s return owl to the Ministry saying he couldn’t attend may have got lost somewhere over France. No one is the wiser,” Dumbledore said with a secretive smile. “And his personal assistant would, of course, be accompanying him.”

“So we us Polyjuice,” Remus said, nodding to the purple vials. “Peter and I take it, slip in and no one knows we aren’t who we say we are. It’s simple.”

“It’s _too_ simple. Something could go wrong,” Peter added, visibly swallowing. “What if it’s warded like Gringotts?”

“Ah, it may be simple, but the fewer steps our plan has, the fewer things to go wrong,” Dumbledore said. “The backup plan is I go in alone. And I assure you, Mr Pettigrew, you will go unnoticed if luck is on our side.

“And what happens once we’re in?” Peter asked. Remus noted the way he was nervously wringing his hands.

“Our priority is getting to the TARDIS and finding a way inside if at all possible,” Dumbledore said with a curt nod. Turning to Remus, he asked, “That woman you were talking to last night in the street. Who was she?”

“And why don’t I know about this?” James asked, eyes wide and glasses slipping down his nose as he looked at Remus.

“It was none of your business, Jimmy,” Remus said, a wan smile flitting across his lips when James moue of distaste at the nickname. He sobered as he turned to Dumbledore. “The one I was telling you about, the werewolf who isn’t a werewolf.”

Peter groaned and slumped down in his chair. “Do I _want_ to know what that means?”

“We’ll spare you the headache,” Remus quipped, sighing as he looked back at an expectant Dumbledore. “She basically reiterated what you said, sir. She had this device she claimed helped her walk between universes. And she mentioned something called ‘Torchwood.’”

Dumbledore made a noncommittal noise. “I’ve never heard of anything called ‘Torchwood.’ What else did she say?”

Remus swallowed. “She told me to find the TARDIS, and that a man called the Doctor should be inside it. She claimed he was the only one who could stop the Darkness from coming.”

“‘Doctor’? Doctor who?” James asked, frowning at Remus. “She didn’t give a name?”

“Just ‘the Doctor.’ She implied he was a Time Lord.”

“Impossible. They all died,” Dumbledore said, surprise tinged with suspicion in his voice.

“Maybe not all of them if a TARDIS has shown up,” Remus said, his quiet voice loud in the suddenly charged room. “She...she said she’d be back when we found it.”

“This woman, did she say what her name was?” Dumbledore said after a beat.

“No,” Remus said, a shiver running down his spine, “she wouldn’t answer when I asked. I...when she was around, I felt...wrong.”

“Wrong how?” 

“Like I wanted to turn tail and run home as quickly as I could,” Remus said as his heartbeat quickened and a sweat broke out on his brow. “The wolf can sense something about her. What exactly I don’t know. But he fears her, I think. I’ve never felt anything like it before, not even around other lycanthropes.”

“What is she?” Peter asked, his voice rising as he looked between his friends and Dumbledore.

“Something new,” Remus whispered, giving himself a mental shake. “But I can tell you she’s a Muggle. Should we be worried about her finding us out? Is she a threat?”

“No,” Dumbledore said firmly. “We shouldn’t be afraid of what we don’t know, of the big bad wolf. We go in as planned, find the TARDIS, and if she finds us, so be it. We deal with any threats when and if they should arise. Three wizards against one Muggle is hardly a match. Strength in numbers, boys. We stop at nothing.” He looked between the three friends, studying each in turn. “The question is, are we ready?”

He waited until each of the men nodded before breaking into a wide grin. “Good. We meet at Mr Lupin’s flat at dawn tomorrow. Then we sneak in to get a look at this TARDIS. Let us just hope it holds our answers.”

***

“Is all this really necessary?” Sirius asked, glancing between the multitude of carrier bags in his and Jones’s hands. “I think there may still be some clothes left in the shops.”

Jones chuckled, looking over at him as they walked through the car park. “If you’re going to stay on you’ll need them. Trust me.”

“I still feel like we bought everything,” Sirius said and smiled at Jones. “The styles have certainly changed since 1979.”

“Just be glad you didn’t land in the Eighties. You really dodged a bullet there.”

“That bad?” Sirius asked, slowing as they reached Jones’s car. He watched, still awestruck, as Jones unlocked it remotely and opened the boot with the push of a button. 

“Worse,” the man deadpanned and stashed the bags inside. 

“Oh,” Sirius said, pondering the plight of the 1980s as he placed his own bags in the boot. He stood back as Jones slammed the lid down. “What were they like? The Eighties.”

“All I remember is my mam’s horrible shoulder pads and my sister listening to Duran Duran and New Kids on the Block incessantly,” Jones said, suppressing a shiver. “And I remember Rhiannon’s Care Bear meeting an untimely end, but that had nothing to do with me. Well, maybe just a little but she deserved it.”

Sirius frowned as he walked over to the passenger side, wondering what Care Bears were and what function shoulder pads served. Over the top of the car, he asked, “Was it really so terrible a decade?”

Jones bit his lip, absently scratching at a speck of dirt on top of the Audi. “I don’t know how much I should or can tell you, but most people seem to think it was a more carefree decade. Even if the fashion was ghastly.”

“And by ghastly you mean—?” Sirius pried, a small half-smile tugging at his lips as a wistful expression crossed Jones’s face.

“Acid wash jeans, Day-Glo, really big hair, and leg warmers. Like I said, the fashion was abominable, but the music wasn’t half bad.”

“So does that mean it isn’t half good either?” Sirius asked, opening the car door and sliding in. He watched Jones get behind the wheel, an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.

Jones clicked his seat belt into place and placed the keys in the ignition before he turned to smirk at Sirius. “Let me put it this way, if I hear ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ one more time I may murder someone.”

Sirius chuckled hollowly, wishing he understood the reference, and did up his own seat belt. He saw Jones slip in his earwig and check his mobile before backing out of the parking space. With a sigh, Sirius settled into his seat and stared out the window. He watched the city pass by as they drove—parents with prams, shoppers with arms full of bags, businessmen and women in suits talking into mobile phones and hurrying to their next meetings, students laughing and jostling with their mates in the midday sun. He shifted in his seat, vaguely aware of Jones humming along quietly to the radio, and wished he were back home with his own friends. He stared down at his hands as the car started to slow at a traffic light. He only looked up when they started moving again after what seemed an eternity.

He recognised the tune Jones was humming. Something old, something Muggle that Lily and James had danced to at their wedding. He couldn’t remember the name of the song—some old standard by Glenn Miller, he knew that much—but he pushed aside the memories, turning back to look out the window once more. As they turned a corner, he caught sight of a couple in front of a jewellery shop. Both were women, one fair as the other was dark, and their hands were clasped tight as they stared into the shop window and pointed at the display of engagement rings. He couldn’t help the shuddering sigh that escaped his lips as Remus’s face swam behind his eyes.

He would never hold his hand again if he was forced to stay here. He could almost feel the phantom weight of it in his own, but the memory disappeared as soon as he tightened his fist against the leather of his seat. It wasn’t fair. They’d only just moved into their own flat. Sirius had been going to take him away to Paris in a few months if the situation with Voldemort hadn’t worsened. The full moons were getting harder, even though Remus refused to admit it, and Sirius thought that if the war didn’t take Remus from him, they eventually would. Being without him was too much to even begin to think about.

“All right?” Jones asked quietly, startling Sirius from his thoughts. 

Sirius looked around frantically, trying to gather his bearings, letting out a breath as he took in a semi-familiar street. “If I said I was, would you believe me?”

Jones was quiet for a beat. Sirius watched as he gripped the wheel tighter and took a breath, his hands relaxing as the young man exhaled through his mouth. “Not in the least.”

He watched Jones out the corner of his eye as he manoeuvred the car through the streets. There was something about the man, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He thought back to the night before, of the way Jones’s face had hardened at the mention of whatever had happened at Torchwood’s London office. He also remembered Harkness’s haunted and pained face, the way the American drew strength from the younger man with nothing more than a touch. He could barely reconcile such strength with the Welshman’s easy smile and baby face. 

“So…you and Harkness?” he asked lightly, regretting it immediately when Jones stiffened and braked hard.

“What about Jack and me?” Jones replied, looking away from the road for a brief moment to frown at him.

“It’s just….You’re together, yeah? And you work for the government?” Sirius asked quietly, staring down at his jeans and picking at the grain of the denim. Even he had to keep his and Remus’s relationship secret from the Ministry. It would be bad enough if his boss knew he was dating a werewolf, but a male one? He’d be back to checking up on little old ladies who thought Voldemort was trying to contact them through the Daily Prophet. He knew prejudice was just a bad in the Muggle world.

He heard Jones sigh and saw him relax out the corner of his eye. “Things have changed since you left. People are much more accepting.”

Sirius looked up at him, a little surprised. “How do you mean? I thought it’d never change. I mean, in our world it’s still a bit taboo, I suppose. I mean, it’s only been legal for a few years, and still not in Scotland.” And both he and Remus were still twenty, so technically not even of age yet. Bastard government.

“Like I said, attitudes have changed,” Jones said, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. “Jack and I could even get married if we wanted.”

Sirius’s head snapped up, eyes wide, and he let Jones’s rich chuckle wash over him. It was infectious, and he tried not to start himself. “What?”

“You heard me,” Jones said. “And if what Jack says is true, things are going to change even more in the future. The Twenty-First Century _is_ when everything changes, as he like to say.”

“You both talk a load of rubbish, you know that?” Sirius said disbelievingly. 

“It’s not rubbish,” Jones said, laughter colouring his voice, “but just don’t listen to Jack’s ridiculous stories about where he’s from. I think he makes half of them up.”

Sirius frowned, all good humour leaving him. “He’s not from America?”

Jones paused for a moment and Sirius spared a glance at him. His lips were pursed and his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “I figure he must have been something big in the CIA at some point.”

Sirius frowned. He knew it was a lie. “But that coat of his is from the Second Great War.”

“Jack likes the period,” Jones said tersely. “It was his father’s coat. They were quiet close. He inherited it after he passed a few years back.”

“If I asked for the truth, would you tell it to me?” Sirius asked with a sigh. “The Rift and aliens I can believe, but that’s the biggest piece of bullshit I’ve heard since I got here.”

Jones was quiet for a moment, his grip alternately tightening and loosening on the steering wheel. “The truth, Sirius, is that it’s Jack’s story. It’s not my place to tell it.” 

“You’re protecting him,” Sirius said, an air of disbelief in his voice as he turned away. 

“And I’d willingly go to my grave to keep doing so if I had to,” Jones said, fixing Sirius with an incomprehensible look as they came to another stop light. “If it meant I could spare him just a little pain, I wouldn’t think twice. I think you most of all could understand that.”

Sirius drew in a shaking breath and looked away from the young Welshman, memories coming back to him of rushing Remus to St Mungo’s a few months back after a particularly bad full moon. “I do, yes.”

Jones nodded, turning back to the front as they started to move again. They fell into a silence punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the music on the radio. Sirius slouched down in his seat, thoughts of Remus flitting through his head. They were painful, but not unwelcome, an almost-comfort in this strange new world. The Cardiff blurring past wasn’t one he recognised, whether it was the turn of twenty-nine years or because it wasn’t the same city he knew, he didn’t really care. A part of him wondered what London would be like now. 

His reverie was interrupted by the shrill ring of Jones’s mobile. He watched, half-fascinated, as he fumbled for it. The small smile on his lips when he looked at the display was enough to make Sirius look away, heart constricting. 

“Jack,” Jones answered, voice light as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. Surely that couldn’t be safe, driving and talking on the telephone at the same time?

Sirius regarded Jones with a frown as the man tensed beside him. “Almost back home. Why? What’s going on?”

Sirius felt his heart start to pound as Jones made a u-turn and sped off back the way they’d come.

“We’ll meet you there in—“ he checked the dashboard clock “—ten minutes. Don’t do anything stupid, Jack.”

Sirius ducked his head to hide his grin as Jones rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Humour me, Jack. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jones said and hung up, tossing the mobile back into one of the cup holders.

“What was that all about, then?” Sirius asked, steadying himself with a hand against the dash as Jones made another quick turn.

“How do you feel about weevil hunting, Mr Black?” Jones asked, face set in a roguish grin.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “What’s so exciting about hunting beetles?”

Jones’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m afraid this kind of weevil is much larger and much more vicious than their namesake.”

“Aliens?”

“Aliens.”

Sirius didn’t know whether he wanted Jones to hurry or slow down enough so he could jump out of the car.

***

Ianto couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when Black paled and gripped the edge of his seat. As he drove, he could feel his heart pounding in anticipation as adrenaline started to flood his system. He took a kerb too quickly, cursing under his breath as one of the tyres went up on it.

“Sorry,” he called to Black, who rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever,” the man said and shifted nervously in his seat. “So, these weevil things. What are they?”

“Creatures that have come through the Rift. They live in the sewers.” Ianto spared Black a look and sped up as all the traffics lights ahead of them suddenly changed to green. “If they come up and go rouge, we catch them and make sure they don’t cause any mischief.” 

Ianto winced as the sound of car horns and screeching tyres filled the air.

Black swore and braced himself in his seat. “How did they all change like that?”

Ianto chuckled and lifted a hand to his ear, activating his comm. “I’m assuming that was you, Gwen.”

“ _Thanks to Tosh_ ,” Gwen’s tinny voice whistled through the device. “ _Jack’s just about there now. How far out are you?_ ”

“Almost there. A few minutes maybe,” Ianto said with a frown. “You sitting this one out, Gwen?”

“ _Well, someone’s got to coordinate_ ,” she said with a sigh. “ _I’ve got the weevil on CCTV. It seems pretty vicious. It’s already taken out some poor sod. The police are dealing with the scene as we speak. And my wrist is still acting up from the Auton incident last week._ ”

“You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Ianto groaned. Out the corner of his eye he could see Black staring at him in bewilderment. “I’m still having nightmares about that.”

“ _Tell me about it. Who knew shop window dummies could be so sadistic._ ”

“Maybe the Mythbusters?” Ianto joked as he turned onto the proper street. He pulled up behind the SUV and quickly killed the engine. 

“ _Either way, the result would still have ended with a big boom_ ,” Jack’s voiced echoed over the comm.

“Where are you?” Ianto asked, looking around for him as he fumbled under his seat one-handed for his gun. 

“ _The alley between the Thai place and the electronics shop. The weevil’s disappeared behind a skip._ ”

“I’ll catch you up,” Ianto said and curled his fingers around the handle of his modified Glock. 

“ _Be careful, boys_ ,” Gwen’s said tensely. 

“ _You know me, Gwen. I’m always careful._ ” Jack's grin was evident even through the tinny connection.

“And I’m the Ambassador for Wales,” Ianto said, smiling to himself as Jack’s hearty chuckle filled his ear. He pulled the gun from underneath his seat and racked the slide, a strangled sound from the passenger seat caught his attention.

“Has that _thing_ been there the whole time?” Black asked, pointing at the gun and scooting as close to the door as possible. 

“It always pays to be prepared, Mr Black,” Ianto said grimly and undid his seat belt. The man looked like he wanted to crawl out through the window. “Now, stay in the car no matter what happens. Let me and Jack handle it.”

“But there must be something I can—“

“Let me and Jack handle it,” Ianto reiterated, taking the keys from the ignition and slipping them into his pocket as he got out. “Stay in the car.”

“But—“

“Car! Stay! Good boy!” Ianto called back and slammed the door behind him. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Black, who was glowering at him, before jogging to meet up with Jack. 

He stopped at the mouth of the alley, the stench of rotting food and piss assaulting his nostrils, eyes immediately landing on Jack, holster undone and Webley glinting in the pale sunlight, standing in front of some familiar graffiti. 

Jack half-turned as he approached and fixed him with a blinding grin. He motioned with a can of weevil spray to the skip at the end of the alley. “Down there. You go left, I’ll go right.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another can of the spray and a hood, tossing them both to Ianto. “Try to take it down without shooting it if you can.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, tucking the hood into the waistband of his trousers. “If I did shoot it, I’d just end up playing doctor.”

“Speaking of playing doctor....”

“ _ **Boys**. Let’s try to get this done as quickly as possible, yeah?_ ” Gwen said exasperatedly through the comms. “ _Before it decides to have you as its lunch?_ ” 

“Sorry,” Jack said, not bothering to hide his smile as he started forward, crossing in front of Ianto.

“You don’t sound sorry,” Ianto quipped, smirking when Jack winked at him.

“Later?”

“We’ll see.”

“It’s a date then,” Jack said, fixing Ianto with a small, private smile before he fell quiet as they approached the skip. After a moment’s silence, he whispered, “Just promise me you won’t hesitate if necessary?”

“I won’t,” he said with a curt nod. Ianto could feel the surge of adrenaline as they approached, his heart beating out a savage rhyme. He followed behind Jack, alert for any potential threats or targets for the weevil. As they got closer, he could hear the weevil shuffling through the rubbish piled behind the skip. He split away from Jack when he gave the signal, raising his gun as he neared the skip. He glanced sideways, smiling to himself when he saw Jack do the same. 

“Ready?” Jack whispered and nodded towards the weevil’s hiding spot.

Ianto nodded. “On three?”

Jack stared at him for a moment, an unreadable expression flitting across his face for only a second, before nodding back. Ianto rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on his gun, ready should the weevil make any sudden moves. 

“ _I’ll do the honours then?_ ” Gwen said and Ianto could just make out the clacking of a keyboard over the comm. He heard the mechanics whirring as the CCTV camera at the end of the alley moved to face them.“ _One_.”

Ianto shifted his stance, placing his weight on his left foot, and glanced at Jack out the corner of his eye.

“ _Two._ ”

He saw Jack mirror his movement, shifting to the right and inhaling slowly. He took in his own lungful of the wretched air, trying to suppress a dry heave at the alley’s stench.

“ _Three._ ”

Ianto surged forward, movements clipped and efficient as he rounded the skip, gun and spray raised. The weevil was crouched between the skip and alley wall, a ripped apart bin bag in front of it. Its attention shifted from the assortment of takeaway containers and rubbish, head snapping to its left as Jack chuckled.

“So,” Jack taunted the creature, “is this dessert or was that yobbo just a starter?”

“Jack,” Ianto chided, taking a step forward as the weevil snarled at him. 

“Or maybe he was just a snack,” Jack said, raising his chin and taking a few steps back as the weevil inched forward towards him. He spared a look at the boxes of half-eaten and fermenting food in front of it and grimaced. “Though I’m sure there’s no accounting for taste.”

The weevil lunged at Jack in a blur of motion. Ianto felt panic surge through him, but quickly pushed it away and rushed to the other side of the skip. Upon seeing Jack grappling with the weevil, wincing in sympathy as his lover threw futile punches at the creature, he rushed forward. Thinking quickly, Ianto lunged as Jack and the weevil turned in a half-circle, giving him a better angle. With an ease that would make him sick to his stomach later, he brought the butt of his gun down across the weevil’s temple, stunning it and giving Jack enough time to get his spray up. 

“I had everything under control,” Jack said through pants of breath as he subdued the weevil.

“Of course, sir,” Ianto deadpanned and pulled the hood from his belt. He placed it over the weevil’s head, his hand brushing Jack’s as he did so. “I’ll arrange your fee for the weevil fight club, shall I?” 

“Very funny,” Jack said dryly, holstering his Webley and pocketing the spray. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“Here? It’s a bit...filthy. But then again you did seem to enjoy yourself that time on the docks,” Ianto said, one eyebrow raised as he put his own gun away. 

Over the comms, Gwen groaned. “ _I didn’t need to know that._ ”

“If you’d like, I could give you all the details,” Jack said, smirking when Ianto scoffed. “Preferably over ice cream and _Love, Actually_. We could make it a proper girls night in.”

“ _I think I’ll pass_ ,” Gwen said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “ _Just get that thing back here before it wakes up and decides it needs another nosh._ ”

“Not a word,” Ianto said tersely, cutting Jack off as he opened his mouth to retort.

“You’re no fun,” Jack grumbled, his lips set in a pout.

“So I’ve been told,” Ianto said and moved to grab the weevil’s feet. He scrunched his nose in disgust as he hefted the lower half of the weevil’s body, sighing a grunt as Jack lifted its shoulders. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, though.”

“Oh?” Jack said through his teeth. “What has this thing been eating?”

“Yep. Proper date and everything. I’ll even let you buy me dinner,” Ianto said, turning his head to watch where he was going. “I don’t think small pets and miscellaneous pedestrians makes for a very healthy diet, do you?”

“How gentlemanly of me,” Jack said, straining a smile in Ianto’s direction. “Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to be worried about his girlish figure.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “If you play the gentleman, what does that make me? Your Girl Friday?”

Jack forced out a laugh and adjusted his grip on the weevil as it started to slip from his hold. “Of course not. You make the better Cary Grant. Besides, I look absolutely ravishing in a skirt. Watch your step. We’re almost there.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Ianto said, sparing Jack a teasing smile before glancing over his shoulder. “You got the keys?”

“You love me anyway,” Jack said and Ianto noticed that his grin didn’t meet his eyes. “In my left trouser pocket.”

“Well, you’re getting them yourself,” Ianto stuttered, setting the weevil down as Jack lowered its torso. He leaned against the side of the SUV as Jack dug in his pocket for the keys, not meeting the man’s eyes and ignoring the pang in his chest at Jack’s words. It was a moment before he realised Jack had said something else.

He looked up, sparing a glance at his car and a very bored looking Black, and met Jack’s eyes. “Sorry. What was that?”

Jack sighed and reached out to caress Ianto’s cheek. “I said help me get it into the boot?” 

“Oh,” Ianto said and started to move away from him. “Sure.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath when Jack’s other hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb slowly brushing against his lips. He shivered at the pleasant tickle, lips parting with a soft gasp.

“Why won’t you say it?” Jack asked softly and Ianto hated himself for the hurt in Jack’s voice. “I wouldn’t tell you how I feel and it be a lie. Especially not to you, Ianto. Never you.” 

Ianto sighed and leaned into Jack’s touch. “I just can’t, Jack,” he whispered, gently nipping at Jack’s thumb.

“Why not, Ianto? Do you really think it’s so easy for me?” Jack asked, letting out a shaky breath. 

“Is this really the time and place to be talking about this?” Ianto asked meekly, looking down and intently studying the cut of the weevil’s boiler suit.

“Don’t try to just brush this off,” Jack said, his voice taking on an edge. “I need to know, Ianto. If we’re nothing more than a part-time shag, then please let me know.”

Ianto’s head snapped up. “What?” he whispered incredulously. “No. No, of course not. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” 

“Then why can’t you tell me?” Jack said quietly, brokenly.

Ianto looked into Jack’s eyes, placing his hands on the other man’s hips as he leaned into him. He chastely pressed his lips to Jack’s, pulling back before either could deepen the kiss. “Because I’m just a blip in time for you. One day I’ll be gone and you’ll forget me. You’ll move on.”

Jack’s breath was hot against Ianto’s lips and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his. “That’s not true, Ianto Jones.”

“The only other person I loved died,” Ianto confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t go through that again, Jack.” 

He heard Jack sigh and felt his arms wrap around him, holding him close. He closed his eyes, lids shut tight against unwelcome tears, and rested his head against Jack’s shoulder, deeply breathing in Jack’s scent.

“I’m not her, Ianto,” Jack whispered, one hand slowly trailing up his back to card fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear. Not like that.”

“You can’t promise me though, can you?” Ianto whispered bitterly. 

“I wish I could,” Jack said, voice full of emotion, “but I meant what I said. I came back for _you_. I’ll always come back for you. Even when you’re old and grey.”

“And full of sleep?” Ianto asked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. 

“Oh, you hush,” Jack laughed lightly, turning to press a kiss to Ianto’s temple. “I mean it. I’ll always come back. Even from death itself. It’s not like I have a say in it.”

“We don’t know that,” Ianto said, sobering. “Every time you die, I can’t help thinking what if you don’t come back this time? What would I do without you?”

“You’d be all right,” Jack whispered, lips brushing against Ianto’s temple. 

“I need you, Jack. I hate myself for it, but I need you.” 

“Needing someone isn’t so bad,” Jack said softly, pulling away from Ianto enough to smile at him. “I need you much more than you need me, Ianto Jones.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ianto said quickly, looking away.

“No, I’m not. We don’t know what the future holds. And I really do need to say it. Before it’s too late,” Jack said, gently cupping Ianto’s chin. “Look at me.”

Ianto lifted his gaze after a few long seconds and met Jack’s sparkling blue eyes. His lips tugged upwards slightly as Jack fixed him with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he said softly and pressed a chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips.

“Jack,” Ianto whispered as they pulled apart, the name like a prayer on his lips. “I—“

Before he could say anything, their comms sprang to life as a snarl cut through the air.

“ _Ianto! Behind you!_ ” Gwen shouted through the device. 

It all seemed in slow motion to Ianto as Jack pushed him out of the way, his hip colliding painfully with the SUV. He cried out as Jack intercepted the weevil and wrenched his gun from its holster. Ianto didn’t hesitate as the creature overpowered Jack, knocking him to the ground and sinking its teeth into Jack’s neck. As Jack screamed, he opened fire, not stopping until he’d emptied the clip into the weevil’s chest.

The gun clattered to the ground and Ianto rushed over as the creature went limp, barely registering a car door slamming and the pair of hands helping him pull the weevil’s dead weight from Jack. 

“Jack!” Ianto cried, dropping to his knees and reaching for him. His hand grasped weekly at Ianto’s forearm, blood seeping too quickly from his wound as Black vainly tried to apply pressure to it.

“Ianto,” Jack said, voice laboured and almost too quiet to be heard. 

“I’m here, Jack. I’m here and...and I love you too . So much. So very, very much,” Ianto said, leaning down to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead.

“Ianto,” Jack whispered with a wheeze, though he grinned weakly. He grip went slack on Ianto’s arm. 

“Oh, Merlin!” Black moaned, sitting back on his heels and staring between Ianto and Jack’s body. “He’s dead.”

Ianto ignored him and brushed back Jack’s fringe from his forehead. He felt empty as he moved to cradle Jack’s head in his lap. He sighed and settled Jack against him, his fingers gently running through Jack’s soft hair. 

“He saved you,” Black said quietly, poking at the dead weevil with one cautious finger, “from that thing you caught’s...?”

“Mate, probably,” Ianto said absently, half-listening to Black and cutting his connection to the Hub, silencing Gwen’s shouts to know what had happened. 

“What do we do?” Black asked, eyes wide and voice soft. 

Ianto paused for a moment, his other hand drifting to trace the wound on Jack’s neck. “Now we wait.”

“Wait?” Black asked incredulously. “Wait for what? He’s dead, Mr Jones. He’s not coming back.”

Ianto chuckled darkly and his voice sounded as dead as the man in his arms when he answered, “You don’t know him.”

Ianto looked away from Black’s indignant spluttering and turned back to Jack. He let his hand drift upward, tracing Jack’s jaw and lips. He sent up a prayer to a god he didn’t know if he believed in anymore. 

Jack was coming back. 

He had too. 

He promised.


	13. Chapter 13

“This is madness,” James said, running a hand through his messy hair. “Absolute, stark raving madness.”

Remus closed his eyes against the sun, letting the feeble rays warm his face as the lake lapped at his ankles. He thought of the task at hand, of the blonde woman and her cryptic riddles, of failing to find a way to get Sirius back. And worst of all, of not finding a way _to_ Sirius if they failed. 

“It’s the only way,” he said, opening his eyes and turning to look at James and Peter sitting by the old oak tree. The two men were nestled among its sprawling roots, Peter looking pale and drawn off to one side and James decidedly cross as he plucked at blades of grass. 

“We don’t know that,” James said, meeting Remus’s eyes for a moment. “What about that woman? That device you mentioned? Couldn’t we use that?”

“And where do you suggest we get them? Just ask her nicely? ‘Pretty please with a cherry on top?’” Remus said, eyes narrowing. 

“But would it hurt to try?” James said, gesticulating wildly and causing his glasses to slide down his nose. He quickly pushed them back up. “If this goes tits up, we’ll end up in Azkaban.”

“Or we’ll get the Kiss,” Peter said in a lifeless monotone. His eyes were hollow as he looked between James and Remus. 

“Lily’s having a baby. I can’t take a risk that big. What would happen if I was convicted?”

“Lily’s strong,” Remus said and placed his hands on his hips. “She’d understand. Maybe not right away, but eventually. But this is _Sirius_ we’re talking about, James. He’s your best mate. He’d stop at nothing if it was one of us that disappeared. And I won’t either.”

“But if we get caught, Moony, what happens then?” James said, glaring at him. “Don’t you care?”

Remus was quite for a long moment, gaze lingering on the grass between James and Peter. “What have I got left to lose, James?”

“Remus—“ James said warningly, starting to rise.

“Don’t!” Remus said and wrapped his arms around himself. “I have no job, no money, and now Sirius is gone. I have nothing. I’m going to do this, James. I’ll go with Dumbledore on my own if that’s what you want. I can afford the risk.”

“You’re a right twat sometimes, you know,” James said incredulously. “You’re not going in alone. He’s our friend too. I’d do anything for him. I just think we should consider the consequences our families will have to face if worst comes to worst.”

“I love him, James. You know that,” Remus said, standing up a little straighter and his chin jutting out in challenge. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“And you think I won’t? That I love him any less than you?” James countered, crossing to the lake and standing at the water’s edge, eyes burning into his. “I may not be his boyfriend, but I do love him. Just like I love you and Peter. You’re like my brothers. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then stop whinging and do it,” Remus pleaded, holding James’s gaze until the dark-haired man looked away. 

“I have a wife to think about,” James said, frowning, “and a baby.”

“And who am I thinking about?” Remus countered, deflating. “We may not be married, but my feelings for him are the same as yours for Lily. What if it was her that was gone? What would you do then?” 

“Stop it!” Peter shouted, wobbling to his feet. “Just stop it! Both of you!”

“Stay out of this, Wormtail,” James called back, eyes shifting momentarily to the darkening horizon as the wind started to pick up. 

“Like hell I will,” Peter said and crossed over to them. He stood by the edge of the lake, one finger pointed accusingly at James. “He’d be beside himself if it was you that was gone. Hell, if any of us were. And don’t think you’re the only one who’ll lose someone if we fail. What about my mum? She’d be devastated. What about Remus’s? She’s already lost a husband. She doesn’t need any more grief.”

“But—“ James started.

“He’s right,” Remus said quietly. “There’s been enough loss. My tad is dead because of Voldemort. How many of our friends are for the same reason? How many more have to die? And Sirius...Sirius is gone because of situations out of our control. What if Voldemort learns how to harness the Rift? Or get his hands on this TARDIS thing? If things are bad now, wait until the whole universe or Time itself is at his mercy. Do we just sit around and wait or do we try to keep it from him? If we can get Sirius back while doing so, then so be it. As far as we know, he’s out there somewhere, alive and alone. I for one am not going to sit around when we have the chance to bring him home.”

“But how do we know this Rift even exists? That the TARDIS isn’t a trick?” James hissed. “This woman could be one of Voldemort's wolves. What then?”

“Because Cardiff has a high instance of unexplained events,” Remus said coldy. “Anyone who’s spent any sort of time there knows that. And it isn’t like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Strange things happen there that can’t be explained by magic. As for the TARDIS, something in me trusts that woman as much as she makes my skin crawl.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” James countered. “Why trust someone we don’t know isn’t working for him?”

“Because we have no other choice,” Peter called. “Why can’t you see that? We need him back, James.”

“She’s a Muggle,” Remus said, pushing James slightly as he stepped out of the water. “I think. She was in Hogsmeade. She knew about werewolves. She bloody _Apparated_. Last I checked Muggles can't do that.” 

“How did she get into Hogsmeade?” James asked, turning to follow Remus.

“I don’t know. There was a flash like lighting and she was just _there_ ,” Remus said, leaning against the tree as he slipped his boots on and rolled his trouser legs back down. “She knew about everything Dumbledore told us. She knew about the future.”

“How could she? Even seers can’t say for sure what the future holds.” James sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s proof enough for me.”

“What if she’s a Time Lord?” Peter said excitedly. “It means they could help us.”

“Dumbledore said they were all dead.” James shook his head as thunder rumbled above them. 

“He didn’t seem very sure,” Remus said, fiddling with the clasp on his cloak.

The trio fell into silence as the clouds continued to roll in. Overhead, birds cried as they flew towards the forest, seeking shelter from the impending storm. Remus would have found it poetic if his mind weren’t with Sirius and the strange blonde woman. If he just knew her name--knew more than the big, bad wolf seemed to be following them--maybe they could find a way to get Sirius back. Maybe use the time machine, if that’s what the TARDIS truly was, to go back to the exact moment he disappeared and stop it from happening or warn their past selves. But paradoxes were best avoided, right? Rewriting history surely was more serious than sneaking into the Department of Mysteries? 

He was drawn from his thoughts as James sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Look, Moony, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to help--”

“Then help us,” he whispered, looking into his friend’s eyes. 

“I wasn’t finished,” James said quietly. “I’ll help as much as I can. I’ll do as Dumbledore says and watch for trouble from my office. If this does go to hell in a pretty little Polyjuiced hand basket, someone’s going to have to finish what was started.”

“What about Lily?” 

“Like you said, she’s strong,” James said, smiling knowingly. “Besides, if I were in your shoes....Well, I’d rather not think about it.”

Remus nodded sagely, looking from James’s sympathetic face to Peter’s worried one. “It’s settled then.”

“We’re really doing this?” Peter asked, voice betraying the fear they were all feeling.

“Come hell or high water,” James said, and the grin on his face was reminiscent of all the times he and Sirius had come back from Zonko’s with bags upon bags stuffed full of dungbombs.

***

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he crouched down in front of Jones and Harkness’s body. He let his eyes drift down the American’s pale face to the large gash on his neck. He reached out and laid a hand on top of Jones’s.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked quietly, letting go of the man’s hand when he pulled it away to take a handkerchief from his pocket. He looked away as the Welshman carefully dabbed at the wound and his gaze landed on the hooded weevil. “Can it breathe with that thing over its head?”

“Of course,” Jones said, quietly, absently. “Jack wouldn’t use them if they weren’t humane.”

“Mr Jones,” Sirius said gently and tried to take the handkerchief from his hand. He sighed when Jones resisted, his soft “don’t” cleaving his heart in two. “He’s dead. We need to take care of the body. Preferably before that other one wakes up.”

“No.” Sirius watched his ministrations for a moment and had to blink when the wound seemed to shrink before his eyes. “He’s coming back.”

“And you’re in shock,” Sirius said and rubbed at his temples. He felt sick when he remembered Harkness’s blood was on his hands. He swallowed a dry heave and hastily wiped them on his jeans. “We need to take you to hospital or something.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Jones said, voice gravelly with emotion. “I hate it when he comes back alone.”

“Should I call Cooper, then?” Sirius sighed when Jones shook his head.

“There’s nothing she could do. Besides, he’ll be back by the time she gets here.” Jones shifted, wrapping his arms around Harkness’s chest and pulled him further into his embrace. 

Sirius winced as the American’s head lolled to the side. He could feel his hands shaking and a cold sweat beading on his forehead. He needed to phone someone. Did 999 exist in this world? Or was it something else nowadays with all the mobile phones? 

Sirius looked back at the car. Jones’s mobile was still in the cup holder where he had left it. Maybe he could find Cooper’s number in it. He’d seen Jones use it earlier when he’d called someone called Rhiannon from the Top Shop. He hadn’t pressed enough buttons to dial a number but he had still been connected. So if the numbers were stored in the phone itself....

“Stay here,” Sirius said and stood. He looked between the weevils and the men on the ground. “I’ll be right back.”

He sighed when Jones didn’t even acknowledge him. He felt for the man. He really did. He knew it must be hard losing someone so young, someone who seemed to care deeply and be cared for in return if that little display before the attack had meant anything. He pushed thoughts of Remus away and got to his feet. He was the one that was lost. Not Remus. He was still safe. Or as safe as any of them were anymore.

He didn’t look back as he rushed to the car. He threw the door open and half-climbed inside. He lunged at the mobile, dropping it only once as he fumbled with it. He slid the display open like he’d seen Jones do. The screen lit up, displaying the time and a picture of a smiling Asian woman and Jones, smiles on their faces and two glasses with paper umbrellas sitting on the table in front of them. He didn’t give it any thought as he pressed at the button marked “Contacts.” He let out the breath he’d been holding when a screen with names popped up; gwen_home and gwen_mbl were fourth and fifth on the list. He pressed the down arrow until it highlighted her mobile number and pressed the green button as he’d seen Jones do. He watched it for a moment, letting the numbers count up to 00:04 before he brought the mobile to his ear. 

“ _Ianto_?” Cooper answered on the second ring. “ _What’s going on there?_ ”

Sirius hesitated a moment before saying, “Ms Cooper?”

“ _It’s Gwen, sweetheart. What’s going on? I’ve lost the CCTV and Ianto and Jack aren’t answering. Did something knock out the comms? Are you all right?_ ” 

Sirius was quiet for a moment as he backed out of the car. “It’s about Harkness,” he said, looking back at the American and Jones. “He’s dead.”

He heard her sigh and smiled wanly as she swore under her breath in Welsh. He’d always thought it rather endearing when Remus did that...not that he'd ever admitted it to anyone. “ _I’ve been dreading this since...well, since we lost Tosh and Owen. How’s Ianto holding up_?”

“He’s in shock. He needs a doctor. He...he thinks Harkness is coming back.”

There was a pregnant silence down the line, the only sounds that of the city and Jones’s voice drifting over as he talked softly to Harkness’s corpse. He was beginning to think they’d been disconnected when Cooper’s determined voice came over the phone. “ _And what do you think about that?_ ”

“I fucking saw that weevil thing rip his throat out! Jones is in shock. He needs medical attention!” Sirius ranted. 

“ _Is he injured?_ ” Cooper asked and he heard her heels clicking on the Hub floor in the background before the grinding of the invisible lift stopped them. 

“Maybe some bruising,” Sirius said, giving Jones a quick once over. “Harkness pushed him out of the way. Emotionally, though—“

“ _Do me a favour?_ ” Her tone was clipped. “ _Sit with him and call me back in about twenty minutes if the situation hasn’t changed? I’m on my way._ ”

“But he needs a doctor. Aren’t you concerned that—“

“ _Of course I am, but there are things you don’t know about Jack,_ ” Cooper said, her accent thick and voice resigned. It sent a chill down Sirius’s spine. “ _Humour Ianto. I need to check in with the police if Jack’s out of commission and see how it’s going with the previous situation. I’ll be there if nothing pressing has come up. Is that clear?_ ”

Sirius was silent and started to chew his lip. By the SUV, Jones was pressing kisses to Harkness’s forehead and slowly rocking him back and forth. 

“ _Is that clear_?” Gwen asked again, more tersely. 

“He shot the second weevil. He ran out of bullets,” Sirius whispered, turning away from the couple. “He seemed upset before that, though. They were talking and...holding each other.”

“Cnychu,” Gwen swore with a sigh. “ _Give me ten minutes. I just wish...._ ”

Sirius wondered what she was going to say as she sighed. 

“ _Never mind. Wishing won’t bring them back. I’ll be there as soon as I can,_ ” Gwen said, and Sirius heard a car door slam and a male voice in the background. “ _Ring me if anything changes._ ”

She severed the connection before he could answer. Sirius pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at the screen for a moment. He didn’t know what had happened. He contemplated dialling 999, but thought better of it. Cooper knew Jones and Harkness better than he did. And if Torchwood were as secretive as they seemed to be, wouldn’t it be best for their own people to take care of it? 

He put the mobile back in the car, and turned to face Jones. The young man was watching Harkness, a serious expression on his face. Sirius sighed. He hadn’t known the young man for two days, but he felt sorry for him. He’d seen Order members lose their loved ones. Hell, he’d picked up the pieces when Remus found out about his dad, but his resolve broke as he saw Jones hastily wipe a tear away. He crossed over to him and knelt beside him. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” Jones said, shrugging his hand away. “You don’t even know him.”

Sirius ducked his head. “But I am sorry for your loss.”

Jones just nodded, his blue eyes firmly fixed on Jack’s face. 

“I called Cooper,” Sirius said quietly. “She’ll be here as soon as she can.”

“She needn’t bother. We’ll be all right. Jack’s always all right.” 

“She’s worried about you.”

“We’re always worried about each nowadays,” Jones said, turning his head slightly towards Sirius. 

“What happen? It was something bad, wasn't it?” Sirius asked, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around the Welshman’s broad shoulders. 

“All you need to know is that little brothers are massive shits,” Jones said quietly, turning back to Harkness. Sirius saw him check a stopwatch in his hand. “C’mon, Jack. It’s been seven minutes. It’s just a weevil.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sirius said and let his eyes wander to Harkness’s neck. What he saw caused him to start back in shock. The wound was gone, the skin completely healed over with no evidence it had ever been rent. 

“What the--” he said, disbelievingly, and pointed to Harkness’s neck. “I saw that thing bite him. I tried to stop the bleeding. His blood is still on my hands.”

“Just wait. You’ll see,” Jones said and Sirius didn’t know if wanted to laugh or scream. Why was everyone speaking in riddles about Jack bloody Harkness?

“Mr Jones, I think we should call Cooper—holy shit!” he exclaimed as Harkness gasped loudly and started to thrash.

“Easy, Jack,” Jones was saying, holding Harkness tight against his chest as the American panted and seemed to gather his bearings. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Always,” Sirius heard Harkness say between deep breaths, his voice like firewhiskey. “What happened?”

“There was another—“

“You fucking died, that’s what happened, you idiot!” Sirius shouted, scooting away from the pair and scrambling to his feet. “You were dead! I saw you die! That thing—“ he pointed to the bleeding weevil “—killed you!”

“So it did,” Harkness said, still leaning back into Jones. 

“And you came back to life!” Sirius said, scuttling backwards towards Jones’s car. “How is that possible?”

“Long story,” Harkness said, finally sitting up with help from Jones.

“What _are_ you?” Sirius accused, ignoring the sound of a car pulling up. 

“An impossibility,” Harkness said, his voice taking on an edge as he sat up. He raised a hand to his throat, scrubbing at the place where the creature had ripped into him.

Behind him, he heard Cooper thank someone called Andy, a door slam, and the car speed away. 

“What kind of magic is this?” Sirius asked, stepping backwards and into Copper. He half turned to apologise, and was taken aback to see Cooper scowling at him as if he’d just kicked her favourite puppies.

“There’s no such thing,” Harkness said and Sirius saw him help Jones to his feet as he felt a needle jabbed into his neck.

Everything went black. 

Again. 

Bastard Torchwood.

***

“Thanks for that,” Ianto said, giving Gwen a weak smile as she lowered Black to the ground.

“I think he took it well,” Jack said, with a curt nod. He rolled his shoulders, wincing as his neck popped.

“He was worried about Ianto,” Gwen said quietly, not looking up at them. 

“Oh,” Jack breathed, turning in Ianto’s arms. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Ianto whispered and kissed the corner of Jack’s mouth. “This is the first time you’ve died since they--”

“I know,” Jack interrupted. He raised a hand to cup Ianto’s cheek. “I’m fine now.”

Ianto turned his head to press his lips to Jack’s palm. “I—”

“I know. Me too,” Jack said, shushing Ianto with a finger to his lips and smiled softly at him. “Me too.”

They fell into silence, Jack and Ianto offering and taking comfort while Gwen fussed over their guest, trying to give them a bit of privacy. After a moment she cleared her throat, breaking the moment.

“We should get the weevils back to the Hub,” she said quietly.

“Agreed,” Jack said, tracing Ianto’s cheekbone with his thumb once more before pulling away with a sigh. “That sedative should be wearing off soon.”

“Oh, god!” Ianto groaned, fingers curling into the fabric of Jack’s coat. “I killed the other one.”

“You did what you had to, sweetheart,” Gwen cooed, standing and dusting off her knees. 

“But I killed it! I didn’t even think!” Ianto said, barely registering Jack’s soothing hands on top of his. 

“There wasn’t time to subdue it,” Jack enunciated, trying to meet his eyes.

“I know,” Ianto said, looking between the dead weevil and Jack. “I know that. But I did it because--”

“Because of what we were talking about?” Jack asked, moving himself and Ianto aside as Gwen started to make room in the boot for the weevils. 

Ianto nodded. “It pertains to it, yes.”

Jack smiled. “You’ve done worse for the same reason. And I’ve done far, far worse for lesser ones.”

Ianto was silent for a moment as he watched Gwen work. “I want to go home, Jack.”

Jack pulled Ianto into his embrace. “All right.” He pulled back enough to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, and Ianto sagged into him. He tightened his arms around him and started to rock him gently from side to side. “We’ll get the weevil settled and then we’ll go.”

“I can take care of it,” Gwen said quietly. She gave them a hesitant smile when they turned to her. “I should have been out here with you.” 

“You’re just getting over an injury, Gwen,” Jack said firmly. “You need to be at your best in the field.”

“It’s no excuse,” she said, her voice rising. “You died, Jack. You _died_. It’s too soon.”

“And what if it had been you? Or Ianto?” Jack countered and moved to the sedated weevil. He crouched down, back to Gwen, and shouldered it with a grunt. “What then?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Gwen said, moving aside as he deposited the weevil into the back of the SUV. 

“Gwen,” Jack said, rounding on her, “you were watching the CCTV when the second weevil appeared?”

Gwen nodded, her mouth set in a moue of displeasure and her eyes blazing with fury and a shine of tears. “Almost out of nowhere.”

“You saw it going for Ianto.” 

She swallowed hard and nodded again. 

“You saved him,” Jack said and looked at her over his shoulder. Out the corner of his eyes he saw Ianto walking over to his car, his hand hovering over his side. He sighed when Ianto opened the passenger door and all but collapsed in. 

“But _you_ died,” Gwen said, laying a hand on Jack’s forearm and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Jack turned around and leaned against the SUV's frame. He gave Gwen a hard, long look before glancing back at Ianto. “It means everything if he’s alive for another day. Besides, it kinda lost it’s novelty after the first hundred or so times.”

Gwen snorted and choked back a slightly hysterical giggle.

Jack crossed his arms and stared down at his boots. He smiled to himself and looked up. “Will you be all right taking care of the weevils and Black on your own?”

Gwen nodded. “I’ll manage,” she said and looked between the two men. “Just...take care of him, yeah?”

Jack said nothing as he pushed away from the SUV and crossed to the dead weevil, Gwen on his heels. As they crouched down to lift it, he met her eyes. “Don’t worry. Of course I will.”

“Okay,” Gwen said, a strained smile on her lips as they lifted the weevil. “What should I tell Black when he comes to?”

Jack waited until they had placed the weevil in the boot and closed it before answering. “Tell him what you think he can handle. Retcon him if you have to.” He glanced back at the unconscious man and sighed. “We really need to keep him awake more often.”

Gwen giggled again. “That’d probably be for the best.”

“Probably,” Jack echoed, grinning. “If you’ll get the door, I’ll get him settled.”

Gwen nodded and walked around the SUV to the passenger side door while Jack brushed off his hands and crossed to Black. He stared down at the young man for a moment before bending down. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he whispered and lifted him, groaning under his weight as he stood. This was getting to be a habit.

Gwen frowned at him as he approached. “You know, he was pretty good in a crisis,” she said, stepping aside for Jack to set Black in. She reached up to cradle the young man’s head when it came to close to the frame. “Easy.”

Jack grunted as he deposited Black and drew back. “Your point being?”

“What we were talking about this morning,” she added grudgingly. “I think maybe you have a point.”

To hide his smile, he leaned in to do up Black’s seat belt. “I knew you’d see it my way eventually.”

“It just feels like we’re replacing them,” Gwen said, sticking her hands in her pocket and absently kicking at one of the tyres, refusing to meet his eye.

“We’re only doing this to keep an eye on him, remember?” Jack said and closed the door as gently as possible. He turned to her and reached out, brushing her hair behind her ear. “They’ll never be able to be replaced.”

“I know,” Gwen said, taking a step back and holding out her hand palm up. “Keys please.”

Jack chuckled and reached into his trouser pocket. He placed them in her hand, a feeble smile tugging at his lips at her curt “thank you.”

“How did you get here anyway?” he asked, following her as she started around the SUV. 

“Andy gave me a lift,” she said. “He picked me up on the Plass. We were on the way to the crime scene, but I though I’d be of better use here.”

“I understand,” Jack said, standing back as she opened the door. “If you need any help, just call us.”

Gwen gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

He waved as she pulled away from the kerb and watched the SUV disappear down the deserted street. With a sigh, he slowly walked over to Ianto’s Audi. He climbed in and quickly did up his seat belt before laying a hand on Ianto’s thigh. He smiled when Ianto’s warm hand covered his own cooler one. 

“Home?” Ianto asked, pulling his hand away long enough to hand Jack the keys. 

“Home,” Jack said, smiling as he took them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise, again, for the delay in posting. I've been rather distracted lately by a particularly rabid LotR plot bunny....

When he Apparated into his mother’s garden, a brisk breeze was starting to rustle at the leaves. On it was the cloying scent of the roses she lovingly grew mixed with the salty tang of the air coming in off the bay.

Remus sighed, his heart heavy, and looked around the garden. It was as he left it two days before—gardening tools strewn haphazardly, an abandoned tea cup sitting alone on the small wicker table, and the pink roses still in desperate need of pruning. He could see the light from the kitchen spilling through the window, illuminating the plants below with a soft golden glow.

“Mam?” he called as he entered through the back door, the warmth of the house and the comforting aroma of shortbread washing over him.

“Kitchen!” she called back, her soft, lilting voice a calming balm. 

Remus smiled to himself as he felt a bit of the weight he’d been carrying since Sirius’s disappearance lessen as he shrugged off his cloak. He tossed it over the back of the well-worn settee and kicked off his boots before he crossed the small room to the kitchen. Anwen Lupin was standing by the cooker, her greying golden-brown hair spilling from its ponytail and her apron clinging to her full hips. She looked up when Remus walked in and gave him a tired, wan smile.

“Hi, Mam,” Remus said quietly and stuffed his hands into his pockets, not meeting her eyes.

He looked up through his lashes when she sighed deeply. “Come here, _cariad_ ,” she said and held her arms out to him.

Remus was across the room in an instant. He took in a deep, shuddering breath of her perfume as her arms pulled him into a tight embrace. He rested his head on top of hers, the coconut of her shampoo filling his nostrils and reminding him of his childhood. He clung to her like he was a five again until she pulled back to kiss to his cheek.

“Mam!” he whinged, pretending to wipe at the spot she had just pressed her lips to. He smiled feebly as she giggled and wiped at the spot with her thumb. He turned his head into her hand, eyes slipping closed and missing the pained look that crossed her delicate features.

“How are you, Remus? Really?” she asked, feathering his fringe with her fingers.

“I’ve been better,” Remus said, sighing. “And you?”

“Just glad your auntie Lyneth is gone,” Anwen said and pulled a face. 

“That bad?” Remus chuckled and let his mother lead him to the table. He ran a hand through his hair as he sat down.

“Ergh. The woman is a menace. I can hardly believe we’re related,” she said, throwing her hands up. “I mean, is it possible we have the same parents? Could it be she was left with mine by _y tylwyth teg_?”

Remus laughed half-heartedly. “What’d she do this time?”

Anwen grumbled under her breath as she checked on the biscuits in the oven. “It seems I’m looking like a cow these days,” she called as she gingerly grabbed the tray with a tea towel. She quickly set the biscuits on top of the hob and switched the oven off. “And _she’s_ the one that’s put on the weight. She looks like she’s about to drop twins.”

“She can’t have been that bad,” Remus chided and tried to hide a smirk. 

“You know how she is, always patronising her little sister,” Anwen said and flicked the kettle on. “Would you like a cup, _cariad_?”

“Yes, please,” Remus said and cleared his throat. “Has she shaved that beard of hers?”

Anwen chortled and pointed at her son. “Don’t you start too.”

“What? She does have one,” Remus teased, watching as she pulled down two mugs and added tea bags to them. 

Anwen tried to stifle a laugh but failed. “I do believe the proper term you’re looking for is ‘five-o-clock shadow.’”

Remus chuckled before sobering and looked down at his hands. “What would you do without her?”

“Oh,” Anwen said, rummaging around the cupboards for a plate. “I wouldn’t have anyone to complain about, would I? Especially now with your father gone....”

She stilled as her shaking hand closed around a plate and Remus stared at her back. Eventually she huffed out a breath and straightened, pulling the plate down. 

Remus smiled sadly as she whispered, “Daft sod,” and moved back to the hob.

“I miss him too, Mam,” Remus said, watching her quickly, gingerly flick the warm biscuits onto the plate. 

“I know,” she whispered, stilling for a moment. “Sometimes I worry about you, Remus. With what you and your friends are out there doing--”

“It’s worth it.” 

“I know,” she said soberly, never blinking or looking away as she sat the plate down with a dull thunk. “But I still worry. I’m your mam. It’s my job.”

Remus said, looking away, “But after what happened to Tad—“

“Don’t you go blaming yourself,” Anwen chided as the kettle boiled. “He was a hero.”

“It was an ambush,” Remus said bitterly. “I should have been out there that night with the rest of the Order, not back at headquarters.”

“Remus John Lupin,” Anwen said tersely and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “It. Was not. Your fault. He died doing his duty. Everyone we know has lost someone. It was only a matter of time before it was one of ours. I just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.” She cleared her throat as her voice broke and quickly moved away to fix the tea. 

“I still should have been there,” Remus mumbled, taking one of the biscuits.

She sat his mug in front of him, and ran a hand over his hair. She bent to press a kiss to his crown, whispering as she pulled away, “He was a good man.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, and grabbed her hand before she could leave his side, clinging to her. 

She gave his hand a squeeze before taking her seat at the table. She cleared her throat as she grabbed a biscuit, and said, “I’m assume this isn’t a social call, sweetheart.”

“I wish it were,” Remus said, grabbing his mug and taking a sip of tea to steady himself. He winced as it burned his tongue. “You heard about what happened to Sirius, then?”

Anwen nodded and wrapped her hands around her mug. “Gethin Perkins stopped by. You remember him—he worked with your father at the Ministry. He wanted to ask me some questions about Sirius. I’m so sorry, Remus. I know how much you care for him.”

“I love him, Mam,” Remus said quietly, not daring to meet her eyes. 

“I know, _cariad_. I know,” Anwen said and reached for his hand again. She smiled brightly as he looked up at her. “I’ve known for quite a long time. I’m hate this had to happen.”

“What did Gethin say?” Remus asked and took another sip of tea. Her turned his hand over to grasp his mother’s, his knuckles white, and he was impressed when she didn’t so much as flinch.

“Nothing much,” Anwen said tersely. “Asked me if I’d seen any strange goings on since I’d moved back here.”

“And?”

“I told him this was the first I’d heard of, save for that incident with those kids in masks and boiler suits last month,” Anwen said with a sigh. “He said they had dealt with that. He was acting strangely though. Like I said I’d seen an alien or something. Imagine, Remus! Aliens!”

Remus tried to smile at her excited tone. “Aliens, Mam? Have you been watching a few too many science fiction films?”

“Oh, hush, you,” she said, faking a smile of her own. “You sound just like your father.”

The pair fell into silence. Remus stared down into his mug, staring at the warm liquid inside as if it could help him find the words he needed to say. He was snapped from his reverie when his mother cleared her throat again. He looked up and felt a surge of guilt at the resigned look gracing her once carefree face.

“You know something I don’t,” she said, reminding him of all the times she’d caught him in a lie as a boy.

“Dumbledore thinks there may be a rift in space-time running through Cardiff,” Remus said quickly. “He thinks it took Sirius.”

Anwen was quiet for a long moment as she thought and sipped her tea. “I remember what my mam and mamgu told me when I was little. Strange disappearances. Funny artefacts being found that the museums and universities couldn’t identify…weird coins, strange bits of technology, rocks that didn’t match the local geography. And I’m going to assume those kids in masks weren’t actually kids having a laugh at all.”

Remus sighed. “I don’t know about that last one, Mam.”

“And what’s happened to Sirius?”

“Transported anywhere in time and space for all we know,” Remus said bitterly. “But Dumbledore thinks he may have found a lead into getting him back.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful,” Anwen said, reaching over as he tried to lift his mug with shaking hands. She gently took it and set it back down on the table. “I take it Dumbledore isn’t either?”

“What we have to do, Mam, to even _try_ to get him back,” Remus said, not meeting her eyes, “is dangerous.”

“How dangerous?” 

“Azkaban dangerous,” Remus said quietly. “If we get caught. Mam, we’re going to have to break into—“

“I don’t need to hear specifics, Remus,” Anwen said, cupping her son’s cheek. “If you do get caught, I don’t need to help incriminate you or be charged as an accomplice. You’ll need someone on the outside to try to get you acquitted. Just be safe. Whatever you do, promise me you’ll be safe. And bring him home. I’ve never seen you smile so much as when you’re with him.”

“Mam?” Remus asked, looking up at her questioningly. 

“I know you love him and all I have to do is look at him to know he feels the same way,” Anwen said, pulling her hand away to undo her hair. She ran a hand through it, shaking it out as it fell about her shoulders. “If I could find a way to get your father back, I’d do it and damn the consequences.” 

“What are you saying, Mam?” Remus asked, voice cracking.

“That boy is the best thing that ever happened to you,” Anwen said, a smile in her voice. “After what happened with Greyback, I never thought I’d see you smile again. Then you met him and those other boys and it was like I got my son back. I’d have to be blind not to see how happy you are with Sirius, and an absolute idiot to deny you that happiness. People do stupid things for love, Remus. Sometimes because they are left with no other choice.” 

Anwen paused and stood up, walking around the table to her son. She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head again. “So I guess what I’m saying is to do what you have to. I’ll support you no matter what, _cariad_.” With a wink, she added, “But, of course, if anyone asks me about this, I know nothing.”

“I don’t deserve you, Mam,” Remus said, turning to wrap his arms around her middle. 

“Of course you do,” Anwen said matter-of-factually. “Now, why don’t you go have a sleep, yeah? You look like shit.”

Remus laughed and scrubbed at his eyes, wiping away tears neither of the acknowledged. “Mam!”

“What?” Anwen giggled and gently smacked his shoulder. “Finish your tea and do as your old mam says.”

“Yes, Mam,” Remus said, saluting her with his mug. 

He watched her go over to the sink and start on the washing up, her soft soprano singing a song from his childhood. He sighed, a long expulsion of air that earned him a raised eyebrow from her. He grabbed a biscuit, dunking it in his tea before taking a soggy bite.

She was wrong. He didn’t deserve her. Or Sirius for that matter. 

But he was damned if he was going to let anything take them from him. 

***

Sirius didn’t bother to open his eyes when he regained consciousness. Instead he concentrated on just breathing and the sounds around him. He could hear the soft whir of machines and a leisurely susurrus of falling water somewhere off to his right. He was laying on something lumpy, like an old settee, and he could feel the warmth of a body nearby. The perfume he smelled was light and citrusy, like Cooper’s....

He opened one eye to see her staring back at him from her seat on the coffee table, an amused expression on her face and her arms resting atop her crossed legs. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Black,” she said a little too cheerfully for Sirius’s liking. 

Sirius groaned, opening both eyes, and leaned up on his elbows. He looked around for a moment, taking in the Hub. His gaze lingered on the “Torchwood” logo above the couch he was laying on. He turned back to Cooper after a moment.

“You drugged me,” he stated. He knew he should be angry, but he couldn’t bring himself to be cross at anyone. Well, maybe Harkness, but the American wasn’t doing much to endear himself with that resurrection act.

“I had to, sweetheart,” she said with a sigh. “You were getting hysterical.”

“You could have tried something else,” Sirius spat and sat up. He leaned forward and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. “All this losing conscious crap is starting to get on my nerves.”

“Well, I _am_ sorry,” Cooper said, reaching for a bottle of water and two small pills sitting on the table beside her. She offered them to him.

“What are they?” he asked, looking at the pills warily.

“Paracetamol. For your head,” she said with a small smile.

“Oh,” Sirius said and took the pills from her. “Thanks.”

He took them gratefully and stared down at his feet, rolling the cool water bottle between his hands. He cleared his throat. “So. Harkness doesn’t stay dead.”

She chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. He usually says he can’t die.”

“But he can. He _did_. I saw it,” Sirius said, running a trembling hand through his hair and looking desperately up at her. “And then I saw him come back to life.” He paused, willing himself to stop shaking. “Am I going mad?”

“I’m afraid not,” Cooper said and took the water bottle from him. She sat it back down on the table and took his hands in her own. Sirius hated that he clung to her like a lifeline. “Do you want to know how I met Jack?”

“Is it relevant?” Sirius asked absently, not really wanting to listen to another one of her stories if it was anything like the one with Banana Boat.

“Yep,” she said, too chipper. “I met Captain Jack Harkness and Torchwood at a crime scene. I was still a PC at the time. I saw them bring a corpse back to life using the Resurrection Gauntlet.”

“The what?” Sirius could feel his eyebrows rising of their own accord.

“It’s exactly what it says on the tin. It was this glove sort of thing that brought people back to life for about two minutes,” Cooper said and Sirius could see the moment her eyes hardened with whatever she was remembering. “Well, they say curiosity killed the cat. I looked into Torchwood and then Jack Retconned me.”

“‘Retconned?’”

“It’s an amnesia pill,” she said, letting go of one of his hands long enough to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind an ear. “It wiped my memories, but I saw a sketch of the murder weapon and it triggered something. I knew I’d seen it before, I just couldn’t remember where exactly. Turns out, this woman named Suzie had it at her desk the night I got the Torchwood PR tour and my memories taken. You see, the glove had driven her mad. Whether it was the power of the gauntlet itself or just this bloody job on top of everything else going on in her life, I can’t say.” 

Sirius frowned, looking up as the pteranodon screeched and took flight. “Torchwood made her go mad?”

“In a way, yes. She was using the knife to kill people and then used the glove to resurrect them. She’d figured out that they worked better when used together. But, anyway, I found myself standing by the water tower at God knows what hour in the morning, trying to figure out where I’d seen the knife and why I was on the Plass, of all places. Then Suzie stepped off the lift. I don’t remember much more than her pulling a gun on me and how scared and confused I was. And then she turned to the lift and pulled the trigger. Jack had been standing there and, all of a sudden, he fell off. Dead. Shot right between the eyes. I was terrified she was going to shoot me too, but then Jack just _stood up_ and I saw the wound heal right before my eyes.”

With disbelief, Sirius asked, “How is that even possible?”

“All he’s ever told me is that something happened to him a long time ago that changed him,” Cooper said, her full lips turned down in a frown. “Maybe he’s told Ianto more, I don’t know. I think it was when he was travelling with that Doctor of his. To be honest, I don’t think even Jack knows for sure.”

“And has he died since then?” Sirius asked, letting go of her hands to lean back into the couch.

“Countless times.” A guilty look crossed her face. “Sometimes because of us, almost always to protect us.”

Sirius was quiet for a long moment, mulling over what Cooper had said. “Is it magic?”

“I’ve seen faeries take their chosen one, people from films going walkabout, and a lot of amazing things most people would consider magical,” she said resolutely, “but there is no such thing, Sirius. Maybe where you come from there is, but not here. Torchwood would know, and, believe me, Yvonne bloody Hartman would have used it to her advantage at One had she known about its existence.”

“But how can it exist in one world and not another?” Sirius asked, rubbing at his temples. The paracetamol wasn’t helping. His head was still throbbing. 

Cooper shrugged. “That’s more Jack’s area than mine.” She paused. “I’m not completely familiar with it, but I think it was Hawking who proposed that for every black hole in this universe there is one out there where black holes don’t exist. Maybe it’s something like that? But that’s just my guess. It’s never come up before and I never thought of asking Tosh what she thought about parallel worlds.” She sighed. “I never got around to asking her a lot of things.”

Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble along on his chin. “Was Tosh your doctor?”

“What?” Gwen asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Mr Jones mentioned you lost your doctor,” Sirius said, suddenly feeling nervous. “Was I not supposed to know that?”

Cooper smiled sadly and laid a hand on his knee. “No, it’s fine. It’s still a bit raw, that’s all. Toshiko was our technician. It wasn’t that long ago we lost her and Owen. Martha was filling in, but she’s only just been recalled to UNIT.”

Sirius raised his eyebrow, causing her to giggle. 

“United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. They’re much more military that Torchwood.”

“But Harkness is RAF, right? That coat he wears?” Sirius asked, slouching down on the settee. With all the strange culture shock, he was beginning to feel like Dorothy in Oz. Only in this world he was the only wizard and there was no waking up from a dream.

“Jack likes to keep himself to himself,” Cooper said quietly. She smiled and Sirius felt himself wanting to smile as well. “But it does suit him, doesn’t it?”

“And you trust him to be your boss?” Sirius tried to joke, but his stomach fell when Cooper’s expression became a blank mask. “With all his secrets?”

“Jack’s a good man,” she said and looked him in the eye, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I trust him with my life. You should too.”

“But you don’t even know him,” Sirius said, shifting under her scrutiny.

“I don’t know who he was, but I know who he is now. That’s all that matters.” 

“Even the not dying bit?”

“There is that.” 

They fell into silence for a moment. Sirius couldn’t keep the images of Harkness lying in Jones’s arms from his mind. He looked down at his hands, bile rising as saw the dried blood on them. 

“How do you deal with it?”

“Deal with what?” Cooper asked and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box under the table. She wet them with water from the bottle and took his right hand. 

“Harkness dying and coming back like that,” he said hollowly and watched as she started to dab at the blood. “It’s terrible.”

“I’m ashamed to say I once thought of it as a bit of a novelty,” she said, her voice quiet. “I never thought how much it hurt him until recently.”

Sirius sighed, letting her turn his hand over. “No one’s told me what happened to them.”

“None of us want to talk about it.”

Sirius studied her face as she resolutely refused to look up at him. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“‘Bad’ is a normal day at Torchwood,” Cooper hissed and jerked his other hand to her. “That one was pure hell.”

Sirius winced as she started to roughly clean the blood away. He looked up when she stifled a cry. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

She looked up towards the pteranodon’s nest, blinking rapidly to clear the tears shining in her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Sirius pulled his hand away when she let go and tentatively laid it on her shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I know what it’s like. Remus lost his father not too long ago.”

Cooper’s eyes softened, but Sirius noticed the way she was slowly shredding the tissues in her hands. “May I ask what happened to him?”

He cleared his throat, an unwanted lump of emotion blocking it. “He and a group of Aurors were out investigating reports of Death Eater—that’s what Voldemort’s followers call themselves—activity in the Brecon Beacons. It was an ambush. The Death Eaters took them by surprise. They never stood a chance.

“Remus was at headquarters in London when we got word. He didn’t take it very well. He blames himself for what happened. He thought his father never would have been out there if he hadn’t been the one to join the Order in the first place, and because the werewolf who bit Remus is Voldemort’s trained dog.”

“I know how he feels,” she whispered. “It’s a constant worry here. We save the many at the cost of a few. And no matter how many people we save compared to those we lose, it still hurts. Especially when it’s your friends…when you and them are the last line of defense.”

Sirius gave her shoulder a squeeze. “But not Harkness. Never Harkness.”

“He knows he’ll always live to see another day,” Cooper said and sat the tissues down next to her. “He knows he’ll survive even when the Darkness is so welcoming to him.”

“The Darkness?” Sirius asked, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t remember how he arrived, but he felt an almost overwhelming fear at Cooper’s words.

“Suzie, Jack and Owen all said that’s what there is after we die. No heaven, no hell, no astral plane where you’re reunited with your loved ones. Just unending darkness. And you’re not alone.”

Sirius shivered. “What’s in it?”

“They wouldn’t say,” Cooper said, scooting back on the table to stretch her legs out under the settee. “But that’s not for the living to know, yeah?”

Sirius laughed bitterly and picked at a spot of blood on his jeans. “It’s probably for the best that way.”

“Probably,” she echoed. She looked lost in thought for a moment before rubbing her hands on her thighs and stood. “So,” she said and slid her hands into her back pockets, “why don’t we see about getting some lunch and then maybe I could show you around Cardiff? I’m certain it’s not like the one you left.”

Sirius snorted. “Believe me, it’s _nothing_ like the one I left.”

“Just let me set the Hub to remote monitoring and we’ll be off,” Cooper said with a somewhat watery smile and a nod.

“Gwen?” he called as she turned to walk away.

“Yes?” 

Sirius slumped back into the couch. “I couldn’t get my wand back, could I?”

“Jack put it in the secure archives. Only he and Ianto have the codes,” she said with a fake smile. “I really am sorry.”

Sirius knew she wasn’t but let it go. It was worth a try, but not worth arguing over. He sighed as he watched her walk over to one of the workstations and type in the necessary commands. If he could convince any of them to give his wand back to him, it would be her. He just needed to find a way to play up to empathy, whatever Torchwood had left of it, a bit more.

 

***

Ianto laughs softly as Jack leaned back into him, wet skin against wet skin, as the water lapped around them. The bath really wasn’t meant for two, but neither of them cared.

“I thought you wanted a massage,” he said, wrapping his arms around Jack. He ran his hands up Jack’s torso, his left coming to rest over his heart while his right rubbed circles along his stomach.

“I did,” Jack said, placing his hand over Ianto’s left. He weaved their fingers together and slowly drug Ianto’s hand away from his chest. “I’m still here, Ianto.”

“I know,” Ianto sighed and pressed a kiss to Jack’s shoulder. “You’re one to talk, anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack grumbled, shifting and sloshing water over the side of the tub. “I come back when I die. You and Gwen won’t.”

“But you still die,” Ianto whispered, turning his hand in Jack’s. “You still feel pain.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, tasting soap. “I still worry you won’t come back.”

“I don’t really have a choice in it,” Jack said, turning slightly in the small space of Ianto’s embrace. He let go of Ianto’s hand to try to cup his chin. “I always get pulled back into life. For how long, I don’t know, but I always do. I always will.”

Ianto closed his eyes and ran a hand up Jack’s forearm to cover his hand, nuzzling into it. “How can you be so sure?” 

Jack frowned, tracing Ianto’s bottom lip with his thumb. He sighed as Ianto nipped at it and pulled his hand away to reach for the flannel. He took the soap Ianto offered, lathering it onto the cloth and resolutely not meeting his eyes.

“Ja-ack,” Ianto said, drawing out his name as he started to scrub at Ianto’s chest. He sighed and grabbed Jack’s hand, prying the flannel from his grasp when he didn’t meet his eye. 

Jack sighed, his eyes slipping closed as Ianto started to lather his forearm with the flannel. If he noticed Ianto’s grip on his wrist, fingers resting over his steady pulse, he didn’t mention it. 

“Have I ever told you about the first time I died?” he asked after a moment, his voice almost a whisper.

Ianto frowned and let go of Jack’s arm when he started to pull it away. He followed Jack’s movements out the corner of his eye and sighed when Jack grabbed the shampoo bottle. “No, you haven’t.” 

The ‘you don’t tell me a lot of things’ went unsaid as Jack squeezed some shampoo into the Welshman’s hands. He rubbed his hands together quickly before running his fingers through Ianto’s hair.

“It was the year 200,100,” Jack said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips as stilled under Jack’s touch. “I was travelling with the Doctor and a woman named Rose Tyler.”

“Her name was on the list of—“

“I know. I saw,” Jack interrupted, his voice hitching slightly. “But she’s living in a parallel world of her own, safe and sound.”

Ianto sighed, letting Jack’s words was over him. He wiped at the drop of shampoo that was tickling its way down his forehead, leaning back to rinse his hair when Jack was through. 

“Anyway,” Jack added, running his hand over Ianto’s hair as he sat back up. “There we were in 200,100, stuck in game show hell.” He shivered. “I never could watch _What Not to Wear_ after that, but to be fair Trinny and Susannah are much more terrifying than their robots.” He chuckled as Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Push come to shove, we were facing down half-mad Daleks.” He rubbed Ianto’s upper arms when the younger man flinched. “I died trying to buy the Doctor some time to finish assembling a delta wave. All I can remember is being exterminated and then gasping back to life to the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising and being up to my neck in corpses and Dalek dust.”

“He left you?” Ianto asked, incredulous. “Bastard!”

Jack smiled wanly. “His newest regeneration more so than the last. But he had other things on his mind.”

“Like?” Ianto asked and hastily grabbed the shampoo.

“Like the fact that he was regenerating and Rose had absorbed the time vortex,” Jack explained, taking the bottle from Ianto and beginning to quickly wash his own hair. “I thought it was because he thought I was dead, but....” He sighed and rinsed his hair. “Well, it doesn’t matter why he left me.”

“Yes, it does,” Ianto said quickly. He sighed himself when Jack ducked his head and let the subject drop. “Is that even possible? Absorbing that and surviving?”

Jack paused and thought for a moment, a frown on his lips. “It shouldn’t be. If a Time Lord absorbed the Vortex it would turn him into a vengeful god. But Rose was an exceptional woman. Strong and equally strong-headed.” He paused. “Gwen reminds me quite a lot of her, actually.” 

Ianto chuckled. “Should I tell Gwen you called her stubborn? Even if it was indirectly?”

“Oi!” Jack exclaimed and splashed Ianto. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sure she’d love to know what you really think of her,” Ianto teased, splashing Jack back. He tossed the flannel at Jack, laughing when it landed with a _squelch_ on his chest.

“And leave me to deal with an angry Gwen? I don’t think so,” Jack grumbled, fighting a smile as Ianto chuckled and pulled the flannel away. “What’s next? Decaf for a week? No sex for a fortnight? I’m sure there’s a human rights violation in there somewhere. I think it might be the decaf.”

“I’ll be sure to alert the proper authorities, then,” Ianto deadpanned, and leaned in for a kiss that Jack quickly deepened.

“I came back,” Jack whispered when they pulled apart, his lips brushing against Ianto’s. “And I have every time since.”

“But even immortals get tired,” Ianto said, pressing his lips to Jack’s in a desperate kiss.

Jack raised his hands to cradle Ianto’s face, thumbs stroking his jaw as he let Ianto plunder his mouth. 

“Look at me,” he said, smiling when Ianto did so. “I may die, but I always come back knowing I have people who need me and people I’m not ready to let go of yet. Never doubt me when I say I come back for you because I do. I will for as long you’ll have me.”

Ianto stared into his eyes, as if searching for something. Jack wondered if he found it when Ianto leaned into him, head on his shoulder and lips pressed to the side of his neck. Jack sighed and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and running a hand up and down his back. He distinctly avoided his side, slowly turning a violent black and blue where he had pushed him out of the weevil’s way.

“But you don’t know if every time you come back will be the last,” Ianto said, splaying his hands on Jack’s abdomen. “What if you hadn’t come back today?”

“I would have gone knowing it wasn’t you that was dying,” Jack said quietly, turning his head to nuzzle Ianto’s cheek. He pressed a kiss to Ianto’s wet hair, the soapy tang of shampoo bitter on his tongue. “And I can’t explain it, Ianto. I just feel like something’s keeping me here...like there’s something I have to do but I’m just stuck here waiting. And I don’t know what for.”

“‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep / But I have promises to keep/ And miles to go before I sleep,’” Ianto quoted softly, his lips brushing against Jack’s skin as he turned his head.

“‘And miles to go before I sleep,’” Jack finished grimly. “I never was much of a Frost fan.”

“Wasn’t as good a kisser as Isherwood?” 

Jack made a noncommittal noise and rocked Ianto back and forth a few times before rubbing his back once more. “What do you say you finish up in here while I see about some food? My back is starting to cramp.”

“Stay with me,” Ianto said quietly, clinging to Jack as he started to move away. “Please.”

“I’m only going into the kitchen,” Jack said, smiling sadly but clung to Ianto as tightly as the younger man was clinging to him. 

“Just five more minutes,” Ianto whispered, nipping at Jack’s shoulder. He felt Jack sigh and wrap his arms around him that bit more. He sighed himself, a shuttering expulsion of breath as the day’s events caught up with him. If Jack noticed the hitch in his breathing or the shuddering of his shoulders, he didn’t let on and held him all the tighter.


	15. Chapter 15

The alley stank of stale piss and yesterday’s rubbish. Remus was quaking in his borrowed robes, the thought of what they were about to do enough to set his heart to pounding and knees to knocking. He ducked his head out of the alley to check no one was lurking about and letting out a shaky breath as he glimpsed the Ministry entrance. He quickly regained his resolve as he remembered why they were here. It didn’t matter what happened to him as long as they got Sirius back. 

He sighed and turned on his heel, walking back to where James and Peter fidgeted while Dumbledore tried to coax a cat from behind an overflowing bin. “All clear,” he said, biting his lip to stifle a grin as the cat hissed and swatted a paw, claws extended, at the old headmaster before haughtily turning tail and chasséing away. Dumbledore chuckled and leaned against the alley wall, facing them.

“Good. Remember the plan?” he asked. He grinned when Peter, Remus and James all nodded. “Good.”

“For the record, I still don’t like it,” James said with a sigh. He pushed his glasses back up as they started to slide down his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. “But we need Sirius home.”

“Are you ready?” Dumbledore asked him, crossing the alley and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“No,” James confessed, his face grim, “but it has to be done.” He turned to Remus, shrugging away Dumbledore’s hand, and pulled the werewolf into an awkward hug.

Remus bit his lip to keep the watery warmth in his eyes from falling as James whispered, “Just bring him back, Moony. I can’t stand to see you as miserable as you have been these past few days.”

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat as James pulled back and nodded. “We will.”

“Good,” James said, grabbing Peter in a headlock and mussing his hair while Peter tried to escape him. “I’ll see you both at headquarters tonight. That’s not up for debate.”

He met their eyes in turn before bidding goodbye to Dumbledore. He gave them a mock salute and left the alley, running across the street to the Ministry entrance. Remus watched him disappear among the crowd mingling around the door, morning papers, sausage rolls and umbrellas cluttering their arms as they hurried and pushed to get inside.

Dumbledore let out a breath when James had safely slipped inside and turned to Peter and Remus. “Are you ready?”

Peter nodded fervently, his eyes darting between Remus and Dumbledore. “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s do this,” Remus said, voice even and determined. At his side, his hands were clenched into fists, his fingernails biting into his palm.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. He reached into his cloak and pulled out two glass vials. He studied them for a long moment, the sleek, purple glass glinting in what little early morning sun filtered into the alley, and tossed them to Peter and Remus. 

“So, who’s who?” Peter asked, uncorking his vial and sniffing at the Polyjuice contained inside. 

“Mr Lupin will be masquerading as my dear old friend Nicolas,” Dumbledore said, smiling when Remus rolled his eyes. “You, Mr Pettigrew, will be accompanying us as Mr Callum Jones, Nicolas’s personal assistant.”

“A male secretary. How modern of him,” Remus said, uncorking his bottle. “I won’t be expected to talk about my work on the Philosopher’s Stone, will I? Because my knowledge is surprisingly lacking in that area.”

Dumbledore said with a chuckle. “You may leave all the talking to me, if you like.”

“With pleasure,” Remus said and raised his vial in toast. “Bottoms up, Wormtail.”

“Cheers,” Peter deadpanned, swallowing a mouthful of the potion with a grimace as Remus did the same.

It wasn’t long before the never quite pleasant sensation of his body shifting and morphing into that of another started to take effect. Remus felt the waves of nausea wash over him, but the transformation couldn’t compare to his monthly one into the wolf. Uncomfortable it certainly was, but not as excruciating as the pull of the full moon, stopping his heart as it and his other organs failed and shrank, bones breaking, bending and reforming into those of the wolf. 

“I bloody _hate_ Polyjuice,” Peter whinged and Remus turned to stare at him. He tried to bite back a laugh. Peter was no longer his short, plump self, but a tall, gangly man with ginger hair sticking up at odd angles and a birthmark above one brow. Peter glared at him out of now blue eyes. “You don’t look much better, I bet,” he said and moved away to try to catch his reflection in the shards of broken glasses littering the alleyway by one of the skips. 

Remus sighed and dared a look down at himself in the nearest window. He did a double take and took a step back. He groaned at his reflection and frowned as Dumbledore laughed heartily behind him. He sighed and took a step closer to the glass. Where his hair had once been a shaggy golden brown, it was now white and the close cropped beard on his jaw itched at his skin. His once hazel eyes shone violet out of a ruggedly handsome face with a resigned curiosity that was all his own. 

“I don’t look half-bad for someone going on seven hundred,” he muttered, running a hand over his beard. 

Peter snickered from beside him. Remus punched his arm, smirking when he let out a cry. 

“Okay boys,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle and reached into his robes. He pulled out two wands, handing one to each of them. “Courtesy of our friend Mr Ollivander. Be careful with them. I’ll be needing them back.”

“Why do we need these?” Peter asked, taking the one proffered him. 

“It’s best not to use your own wands,” Dumbledore said gravely. “The Ministry might have them on record and I’m not taking chances now they’ve stepped up security.”

“They can trace us now?” Remus asked, eyeing the wand cautiously. 

“It’s a chance I don’t want to take,” the older wizard said soberly. He spared them each a look before the customary twinkle returned to his eyes and he clapped his hands together. “Ready?”

Remus and Peter shared a look. 

“As we’ll ever be,” Peter said, voice devoid of emotion. He paused. “Shit. We’re actually doing this?”

“He’d do the same for us,” Remus said, hating the way his voice broke as a wave of emotion rushed over him.

“He’d do the same for _you_ ,” Peter corrected without malice and laid a hand on his shoulder. “He really loves you, you know.”

“Yes,” Remus said and sighed. He let his eyes slip closed and took a moment to steady himself. When he opened them again, he turned to Dumbledore with grim resolve. “Let’s do this.” 

***

“So,” Cooper said, pausing to lick at her ice cream, “what’s it like? Your world?”

Sirius smiled to himself. “That depends on what you want to know about it.”

She grinned at him, her eyes bright and the gap in her teeth making her look childlike in her glee. “Magic, of course! What’s it like to be able to use it?”

Sirius sighed and licked at his whippy, staring out at the bay as he considered her question. “It...depends,” he said after a while. “For some, it’s a novelty at first, I guess, especially Muggle-borns. But like most things, after awhile that all wears off. Some people use it as a means to an end, a way to get what they want and assert what the see as their birthright and superiority. But I guess for most people, it’s no big deal. I mean, it’s as much a part of our lives as driving a car is to you or, to some, breathing.”

Cooper was silent for a beat. “And which of those categories do you fit under?”

Sirius chuckled and considered his response carefully. “It’s useful and a bit of a novelty, but I don’t know what to do with myself without it.”

“I’m sorry you can’t use your wand,” Cooper said, her eyes softening. “But—“

“I know, I know. I’m a security risk,” Sirius said with a huff of exasperation. “Believe me, I get it even if I don’t have to like it.”

The pair fell into silence as they ate their ice creams, the sounds of the gulls above them adding to the din of the tourists milling around on the Plass. 

“So,” Sirius said, breaking the silence, “where are you from if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Cardiff born and raised,” Cooper said with a large smile. She lowered her cone, resting her hand against her thigh, and turned to look at him. “I know you’re from London, but that’s about it. Were there, I don’t know, special classes you had to take for magic?”

Sirius smiled and stared at his own ice cream. “Like all wizarding children in Britain, I went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry when I was eleven. There were four houses into which students were sorted. My family had been in one house for generations, but I was sorted into that one’s main rival.”

“I’m sure your parents must have been proud of you all the same, though,” Cooper said, voice gentle. 

“‘Proud’ certainly isn’t the word I’d use,” he said with a snort. “I was forgiven. Eventually. But not before I had made friends with the ‘wrong’ sort of people. ‘Proud’ is what my parents were of my little brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Cooper said and part of Sirius knew she truly was while another resented her for her easy empathy…or pity. He couldn’t decide quite which one it really was or which he wanted it to be.

“Don’t be,” he said eventually, giving her a bitter smile. “I’m better off now I’ve severed all ties with them.” 

“But they’re still you’re family,” Cooper said, biting her lip as she stared down at her boots. 

“Only in a strictly biological sense of the word,” Sirius deadpanned. “Really, it’s for the best. They’re bigoted, closed minded idiots who can’t see past their money and their inbreeding.” 

“I know the type,” she said, looking up at him. She frowned. “Well, not the magic part. Or inbreeding. You know what I mean.”

Sirius chuckled and tossed his cone to the seagulls. As the birds dove and fought over it, he added teasingly, “Are you always this eloquent?”

His laughter redoubled when she punched his upper arm, her engagement ring biting sharply into his flesh. 

“Piss off,” she said with a grin and crunched on her own cone. “So,” she added after a moment, “how did you and Remus meet? I mean, if that’s not too terribly pushy of me. I know you must miss him. It always make me feel better to talk about Rhys when I’m especially missing him.” 

“We met at school,” he said, voice becoming hollow as he stared out towards the bay with vacant eyes. He shivered despite the warmth of the sun and subconsciously pulled his jacket closer. “We were in the same dormitory. There were only four of us. Myself, James, Peter and Remus. James and I were fast friends. I guess it was because we had so much in common. We both came from old, wealthy pureblood families. He was like the brother I always wanted.” He paused for a moment and smiled out at the bay. “We were joined at the hip from the get go. Peter was more reserved and he looked up to us, especially James, more than he probably should have. I’m ashamed to admit it, but in the beginning, before we really got to know one another, we took advantage of that.”

“And what about Remus?” Cooper asked when Sirius paused.

“Moony was a mystery I couldn’t quite figure out at first,” Sirius said, turning to her with a fond, reminiscent smile. “He was always so quiet and always had his nose stuck in a book. I tried to talk to him, get him to join us, but he was always so reserved.” He laughed. “One time, I hid the book he’d been reading in the common room flue. When he found it and realised it was me that had done it, he hexed me.”

“Oh, my,” Cooper said with a gasp. “I hope it wasn’t serious.”

Sirius laughed. “It was a tickling curse. After that, he started to come out of his shell and we hit it off. I taught him some more interesting jinxes I knew and he let me borrow his Muggle comic books.” He shook his head. “I still don’t get how Muggles can stand pictures that don’t move. I mean, don’t the people in them get tired of just standing around all day?”

He spared a look at Cooper, whose eyes were wide and mouth was hanging ever so slightly agape. He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “Anyway, things were going well until about a month after we’d arrived. Remus just disappeared. He was gone for a few days, and when he finally showed up, he looked like death warmed over. He had some very nasty scrapes on his arms and a bit of a limp. When we asked him where he’d been and what had happened, he said he'd been visiting his mum, who was very, very ill, and that he’d taken a tumble down the stairs.”

“But that’s not what happened, was it?” Cooper asked, reaching for a napkin from the pile between them as her ice cream started to drip. 

Sirius shook his head. “It happened again the next month. And the month after that. And the next one after that. He always said his mum was ill, but he always had a different injury and was ill himself wehn he came back. Plus, when we went home for the winter hols, I met his mum at the train station. She was the very picture of health.” 

“So, he was going away when the moon was full, yeah?” Cooper asked, tucking one leg under herself and turning to face him. “How long did it take you to figure out what was really going on?”

“’Til middle of second year,” Sirius said and pointed to his chin. “You’ve got a bit of ice cream just there.”

Cooper mumbled her thanks and quickly wiped it away.

Sirius sighed when she turned back to him and looked away from her wide inquiring eyes. “Well, by that time we were all the best of friends.” He smiled ruefully. “And the bane of our professors’ existences. We were always getting into some sort of trouble. I think we spent more time in detention than we ever did in class.”

“But you digress.” Cooper smiled sympathetically. “If you’d rather not talk about it, that’s fine. We could talk about, I don’t know, the weather if you like.”

Sirius gave her a side long look. “Oh, yes. The Welsh weather is wonderful. I just _love_ it,” he said sarcastically, chuckling when she tossed a crumpled up napkin at him. “Anyway, James was the one who put it all together. He realised Remus always disappeared around the full moon and always came back when the moon began to wane. After that, the three of us started to do some research on our own. We finally confronted him just before Christmas.” He sighed and subconsciously began to rub at his jaw. “I’ll never forget that day...or to watch out for that left hook of his. He thought we were going to tell, that we had just been playing nice to get close so we could expose him. You see, most wizards fear Dark Creatures.” He snorted. “Hell, they don’t even have the same rights as the rest of us. It’s absolutely appalling. If parents had known their children were going to classes, eating meals and sleeping in the same castle as a werewolf, Remus would have been thrown out of school and who knows what would have happened to him.” Sirius shuddered and fell into silence for a moment. “Once we assured him we didn’t care about his furry little problem, as James called it, and still wanted to be his friends, he eventually started to trust us again.”

The pair was silent for a long while, Cooper finishing her cone and Sirius watching the people that passed them by. He didn’t look up when Gwen grabbed the rest of the napkins and stood to toss them into the nearest bin. When she sat back down, he could feel her watching him. 

“I hope this doesn’t sound too uncouth of me,” she began, “but what was a werewolf doing at a school for witches and wizards if he’d just be run out like some sort of Frankenstein’s monster if his secret was revealed?”

“The headmaster is a very old, very kind man,” he said, levelling his eyes at her. “Plus, his father pleaded his case for him. Dumbledore made a few arrangements for him at the school, ensuring that both Remus and the students and staff would be safe, and assured his parents that he would have a place at the school as long as everything was kept quiet.”

“I’m guessing that was a huge risk,” Cooper said, frowning. “It’d be like us letting a Weevil go work at Tesco.”

“And there isn’t much difference between some werewolves and your weevils,” Sirius said venomously. “They’re horrid creatures. They’ve lost their humanity, every little nuance that makes them human, and been brainwashed into believing they can’t be part of society just because they turn into a wolf a few nights a month.”

“But aren’t they dangerous? I mean, we could put a weevil in a dress, teach it manners and call it Eliza Doolittle, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to rip someone’s throat out as soon as look at them.” 

Sirius blanched. “Very. There’s one called Greyback. He’s allied himself with Voldemort, who has promised to grant equality to all Dark Creatures if they help him win the war. It’s a sham, but he’s a master manipulator. Remus has been working with some clans and packs, but he’s been having very little luck. They see him as a traitor and as conforming to a system that actively denies them even the most basic of rights.”

“And I’d assume some are jealous of him having a proper education?” Cooper said, laying her hand on top of Sirius’s. “Of having been given a chance while they were overlooked?”

“Maybe, I guess,” Sirius said blankly, turning his hand into hers and cupping it. “I worry about him so much sometimes. Anything could happen to him out there and we’d never know until it was too late.”

“I can’t argue with you,” Cooper said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Sometimes I think of what will happen to Rhys when I die. There’s no doubt it’ll be because of Torchwood and he’ll probably never know the truth.”

“Harkness wouldn’t tell him?” Sirius asked, only somewhat surprised.

She was quiet for a moment, her hazel eyes hard as she stared down at the bench. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’d want him to know too many details. I...I just hope he gets some closure, but then again I hope I die an old woman and not two days from now because I chased a Dalek into oncoming traffic.”

Sirius nodded, letting go of her hand and tentatively laying his arm along the bench behind her shoulders. “Believe me, I know too well how you feel. Every day it seems we lose someone else to the war, someone who was at school with us or we’ve known all our lives. I can’t imagine what I’d do if it were one of us...or rather when.”

“And there’s no guarantee you won’t be the next one to be killed either,” she said with a bitter sniffle. “Life isn’t fair.”

Sirius's laugh was a dark, hollow thing that startled himself. “Whoever said it was is a damned liar.”

“Yeah,” Cooper sighed, letting her head rest against Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius let her until his arm went numb, pretending to stretch as he pulled his arm away. 

He stuck his tongue out at her when she giggled. “What?”

“Rhys does that when I start to get too heavy,” she said and, standing, brushed off her jeans. “You could have said something.”

Sirius just shrugged and stood, watching as she pulled out her mobile and typed something into it. He sighed when she placed it in her pocket once again. 

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” she said, too casual to be completely nonchalant. “We should be getting you back to Ianto’s.”

Sirius groaned. “I feel like I’m five again.”

“I hope that doesn’t make me your nanny?” Cooper said with a soft laugh.

“I hope not. My governess was a troll,” Sirius deadpanned, barely concealing a smile. 

Cooper rolled her eyes in a way Sirius thought she must have picked up from Jones. “I don't want to know, do I?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“So I did,” she said, reaching for her pocket when her mobile trilled. Once she had read whatever was on the small screen, she returned it to her pocket and smiled at Sirius. 

“We really should be getting you back, you know,” she said, her face softening. “Jack’ll be getting worried if we don’t.”

Sirius sighed. “I feel like I’m intruding on their lives.”

Cooper reached for his arm and, linking it with hers, started to pull him along. “Don’t worry about it. It’s only until we can find you a place of your own. Or you could always stay with me and Rhys instead.”

“And he’d be okay with that?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

She returned his look with one of her own, though he was too close to miss her slight wince. “Not after last time, no.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Sirius said, grinning to cover his confusion, and let her lead him back towards the Hub and her waiting car. 

As they walked away, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck and arms prickle as the air became charged and the sensation of being watched crawled over him. When he turned to look back over his shoulder, he saw a blonde woman, her hair blowing in the wind coming off the bay, as she stared at them from the bench they had just vacated. Their eyes met for only the briefest of moments before she seemed to fade like so much smoke on the wind. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again no one was there.

 

***

 

Ianto watched as Jack tossed his mobile onto the bedside table with a sigh. 

“She bringing him?” he asked and began rubbing small circles against Jack’s skin and pressing kisses to his chest.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, settling back into his pillow and running his fingers through Ianto’s hair. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Ianto swore under his breath and shifted, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder and twining their legs together under the blankets. “I don’t want to get out of bed,” he said around a yawn.

“Have a sleep then.”

“It’s still early,” Ianto groaned, turning further into Jack and peppering kisses to his neck.

Jack laughed and lifted Ianto’s chin. He smiled as he gently kissed him, only pulling away when Ianto yawned once more. “Early for going out. Late for sexy Welshmen and dashing captains who haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in too long.”

Ianto’s smile faded when he added, “And died today.”

Jack sighed and turned onto his side, facing Ianto and waiting until his lover met his eyes. “Still better me than you.”

“Don’t say that,” Ianto said quickly, looking down at the sheets and trying to pull away from Jack.

“Ianto,” Jack said quietly as he gently held him in place, “it’ll _always_ be better me than you. What would I do without you?”

“Move on,” Ianto said quietly after a beat, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “Eventually you’d move on and forget me.” 

“I could never forget you, Ianto Jones,” Jack said, emotion colouring his voice as he cupped the man’s cheek. “Never.”

“How can you say that? In a thousand years, what will I be? Will you even remember my name or what my voice sounded like?” Ianto asked and Jack hated the tear that slipped from his eye. 

“I’m sure because I love you, Ianto,” Jack said, smiling at Ianto as he wiped away the tear. “Retcon couldn’t make me forget you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Ianto bit out and tried to pull away, but Jack held him close. 

“I don’t,” Jack said, moving to straddle his lover. He pressed his lips to his, letting the kiss linger as Ianto’s hands automatically went to his waist. He rested his forehead against Ianto’s as they parted, sharing the same air as he said, “I’d know something was missing. I’d do my damnedest to find out what or who it was.”

“Sap,” Ianto said with a roll of his eyes, but kissed him nonetheless. He sighed when Jack placed a hand over his heart. “It’s still beating.”

“One day it won’t. And then I’ll be alone again.”

“You’ll always have the Doctor,” Ianto said, looking away briefly and swallowing hard. 

“I’ll lose him too one day. I’m going to outlive everyone I’ll ever know, ever love,” Jack said, voice breaking. He leaned into Ianto’s touch as the younger man twined the fingers of one hand through his hair, Jack’s eyes slipping closed and a stuttering sigh on his lips as he gathered his resolve. Opening his eyes, he turned his head and nipped at Ianto’s forearm. “Besides, I’d rather have Cardiff with you than the whole of the universe with someone who thinks I’m wrong.”

“Thank you, Humphrey Bogart,” Ianto lightly joked with a smile, sitting up and holding Jack close as the older man chuckled somewhat hysterically. 

“Shh,” Ianto cooed, slowly rocking him back and forth. “I’m here. I’m still here.”

“What am I going to do when I lose you?” Jack said softly, lips pressing against Ianto’s skin and he rested his head against Ianto’s shoulder.

“You’ll find a way to move on,” Ianto whispered, cradling Jack’s head as he buried his face in Jack’s hair and inhaled his scent. “Eventually.”

“I have an eternity of eventuallys,” Jack said, turning slightly into Ianto and pressing a hand flat against his stomach. “I’m tired of living when everything else dies.” He paused, took in a ragged breath and said, “I’m a freak of nature.”

“Don’t say that,” Ianto scolded quietly, gripping Jack’s hair tighter. “You are _not_ a freak.”

“Everything dies but me.”

“Jack, please,” Ianto said, turning his head to place a kiss on Jack’s forehead, “don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Jack said bitterly. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it's a lie,” Ianto whispered, slowly starting to rub Jack’s back. “ Besides,” he paused, smiling bitterly to himself, “you’re not the only one who loses everything he loves to death.”

Jack winced and tried to pull away. “Ianto, I’m sorry. I didn’t—"

“Jack,” Ianto said and held him close, “don’t apologise. I lose everyone but you.”

Jack sighed. “You lose me too. Repeatedly.”

“But you come back,” Ianto enunciated, reaching for Jack’s hand. “You always come back. But part of me thinks, one day, you won’t and I’m back to where I began.”

“I promise you. I always will, Ianto,” Jack said and smiled sadly at him. “That’s one promise I swear to you I can keep.” He swallowed, looking away. “I’m not her, Ianto.”

“I know,” Ianto said, looking away to the dresser where, hidden among socks and pants, was a framed photograph of Lisa. “I put her behind me a long time ago, Jack.” He turned, meeting Jack’s eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go through hell again to make sure the person I love comes back from death.”

Jack tried to smile. “Why do I get the feeling you mean that literally?”

Ianto pressed a quick kiss to his lips, Jack deepening it when he started to pull away. 

“I do, you know,” Ianto whispered against Jack’s lips, out of breath, when they broke apart. 

“Do what?” Jack asked, a frown knitting his brows. 

“What I couldn’t say earlier,” Ianto said, trailing kisses along Jack’s chin to mouth at the cleft. “It’s just—I’m afraid that if I say it—“

“You’ll tempt fate?” Jack finished for him, his heart melting when Ianto looked away from him and nodded. “Ianto,” he sighed, eyes slipping closed. “Please. I don’t want to go on wondering what it is we have.” 

Ianto met Jack’s eyes, reaching up to brush away his fringe before cupping his cheek. Jack gasped when he ran his thumb lightly over his lower lip, automatically turning into his touch.

“I love you, you daft idiot,” Ianto said with a smirk. “We’re buying a house together, for Christ’s sake. You hardly ever sleep in the Hub any more. Somehow you moved in here without my knowing. How could you ever think otherwise?”

Jack smiled brightly. “Because I’m a daft idiot?”

Ianto smiled, leaning over to kiss him. “Yep.”

“I should be insulted,” Jack whispered, hands trailing down to the waistband of Ianto’s pyjama bottoms. 

Ianto chuckled and covered Jack’s hands with his own. “They’ll be here soon.”

“It’s not like it’s anything Gwen hasn’t seen before,” Jack said, beginning to trail kisses down Ianto’s neck.

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence,” Ianto deadpanned, nevertheless tilting his head to one side. 

“What?” Jack said, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re incorrigible, that’s all,” Ianto said fondly, letting go of Jack’s hands, running his own up the man’s arms and wrapping them around his neck. He pulled him in for a slow kiss, moaning into it when one of Jack’s hands slipped beneath his pyjamas. 

“Let’s make this quick,” Jack whispered breathily as they broke apart.

“No,” Ianto said, pressing opened mouth kisses to Jack’s collarbone. “Let’s not.”

“A man after my own heart,” Jack said, earning a glare from his lover. He smiled and chuckled softly, placing a kiss to one side of Ianto’s frown. “You’re right. Fuck it. Right here, right now—“

“—is all that matters,” Ianto finished, pulling Jack to him again.


	16. Chapter 16

Remus’s palms had been sweating since they passed through the security checkpoint. It was too easy, he thought, for them to be able to just bloody walk into the Ministry. Then again, he told himself, for all they knew he was Nicholas Flamel, inventor of the Philosopher’s Stone and as old as the very earth beneath their feet. He sighed to himself, wishing he had paid more attention in History of Magic. He could only remember eleven of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood; he had a distinct feeling everything would go tits up were he quizzed on them. 

On his right, Peter was nervously staring between the Unspeakables escorting them to a secure vault deep inside the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. Remus discretely laid a hand on his shoulder as they rounded a corner and gave it a reassuring squeeze. On his other side, Dumbledore was chatting about the Harpies latest match with one of their escorts. 

“—in the running for the Cup, last I heard,” the guard said proudly, smiling at them. “My daughter couldn’t be happier. She’s a huge fan. Wants to play Chaser for them when she leaves school.”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said, smiling fondly. “Abigail Hopkins is your daughter, isn’t she? She’s one of the finest Chasers Hufflepuff has seen in quite some time.”

“You’ve seen her play?” the guard asked, incredulity and awe in his voice. Remus ducked his head to hide his smirk.

“I never miss a match,” Dumbledore said, insulted. “Hogwarts isn’t about more than honing one's magical abilities, Mr Hopkins.”

The Unspeakable bowed his head slightly. “Of course, sir. It’s just I thought someone of your importance might not find the time for such frivolous things.”

“Quidditch is never frivolous,” Dumbledore said solemnly. He was pensive for a moment. “In fact, in some places one could be maimed for referring to it as such.”

“Aye,” the guard laughed. “I’m well aware of that. I remember one time at a Scotland and Wales match—“ 

“Are we nearing the vaults?” Remus interrupted, frowning between the guards then pointedly looking at his watch. “Mr Bonnar and myself are on a very tight schedule.”

“Of course, sir,” the guard said, standing to attention and glancing at his comrade. “It isn’t much further.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said, nodding curtly. 

The group fell into silence, each lost in his own thoughts as they proceeded deeper into the Department of Mysteries. They passed scores of closed doors, some labelled in Old English and looking as if they hadn’t been opened in Flamel’s lifetime. Remus shivered. This deep underground, the air was constantly chilly despite of the warming spells, and he pulled his robes closer about himself, wincing as the vial of polyjuice hidden inside poked his side. He mentally calculated how long they had until it was time for their next dose, sending up a prayer when he realised they didn’t have long before their plan would be ruined if they didn’t make haste.

“All right, sir?” the guard beside Peter asked Remus, his deep voice reverberating along the corridor.

“It’s just a bit too cold in here for my liking,” he lied, giving him a fake smile. “I'm afraid I’ve got too used to the Italian air.”

The guard nodded, dismissing him. 

“It’s just a bit further,” Hopkins said, taking a ring of keys from his belt. He fumbled to find the appropriate one. “I must warn you, some members of our staff have found whatever that thing is disturbing.”

“How so?” Peter asked, glancing between the guard and Remus with his Muggle biro poised over a pad of parchment.

“The thing...I don’t know. The thing almost feels like it’s in pain,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. “No one can tell us what it is or why people seem to have such a strong reaction towards it.”

They stopped outside a door set off from the others, its hinges rusted and the plethora of dust around a recently disturbed archaic lock.

“Hopefully we can be of some assistance,” Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. He gave Remus and Peter a bright smile. 

“Hopefully,” the guard echoed absently, placing the key in the lock and turning it. “A little help, Geoff?”

The other guard moved to his side and, together, they heaved the door open. It creaked loudly; Remus could feel it as the awful sound reverberate deep in his marrow. 

The guards stepped away to let them peer inside. What Remus saw made his heart stop and his gasp was echoed by his companions. Inside, under the dim light of an old-fashioned gas lamp, sat a police public call box, a deep and angry gash marring its once pristine blue side. As he stared at it, Remus was overcome with a wave of agony and loss, as if the box was reaching out to him and grasping at the corner of his conscious. He stepped forward into the room and laid a hand on it. It was warm to the touch, like it was thrumming with life, and after a few short seconds the heat intensified. He pulled his hand away as if burned, and deep inside his mind he saw a woman with glowing yellow eyes and bathed in golden light. The howl of a wolf and knell of bell accompanied the flash, gone as soon as he blinked his leaking eyes open. 

“If you could give us a moment?” Dumbledore said to the guards over his shoulder. He waited until the guards had excused themselves and closed the door before taking in a deep, ragged breath. Remus watched as he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Is that it?” Peter asked, cautiously stepping forward and standing next to Remus. He stretched out his hand as if to touch it but decided better of it. He turned to look at Dumbledore with a ginger eyebrow creeping towards his receding hairline. “The TARDIS?”

Dumbledore absently stared past the two men to the police box. He moved forward, as if on his feet’s own accord, and traced the gash on the box’s side with his fingertips. Remus didn’t miss the tear that escaped the old man’s eye. To the box, he whispered, “What have they done to you, old girl?” 

“My god,” Remus whispered when the box thrummed sadly, the light atop it feebly blinking to life. 

“It’s sentient,” Peter said, awestruck. He stepped back and bumping into Remus, who hastily placed his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “What sort of magic is this?”

Dumbledore never looked away from the TARDIS as he spoke. “This is not magic, Mr Pettigrew. This wonderful creature came to be on a world far, far from Earth, long before Merlin himself was born.”

Peter let out a low whistle.

“How did it get here then?” Remus asked, stepping away from Peter and crossing to the doors of the TARDIS. When he grasped the handles and pulled, a spark of electricity flew from the police box, shocking him. The mood it was emitting changed--in place of deep mourning was a fierce wave of protection, like a mother wolf, pacing and snarling, protecting her cubs. He glared at it for a long moment before moving away. 

“ _She_ ,” Dumbledore quietly corrected. “Never an ‘it.’ As for how she came to be here, I can only guess. The Time Lords invented her kind. Some rather advantageous, shall we say, wizards primitively copied the technology to build timer turners in the Thirteenth Century.”

“But what is _she_ doing _here_?” Remus asked again."Where's the Doctor?"

“Yes, Albus, just where is this 'doctor?'” Peter asked, frowning. As he approached the TARDIS, she rumbled, waves of anger washing over the trio.

“Easy, easy,” Dumbledore soothed as he rubbed her side. “We need to know what’s happening, my old friend. This world is in danger.” He stilled, his face falling as he stood motionless. After a while, his head fell, forehead resting against the side of the box, and another tear made its way down his aged face. “I’m so sorry, love. So, so sorry. I couldn’t have known.”

The TARDIS whirred apologetically, and the waves of agony upon agony radiating from her were excruciating. 

“What’s going on?” Peter said aside to Remus even as he reached for his hand. “Has he finally gone barmy?”

Remus shook his head, clinging back to Peter as he tried through sheer force of will to keep his knees from giving out. “I think...they’ve met before. Something must have happened to the Doctor if this is his TARDIS. If she's in this much pain.” 

Before Peter could retort, the room was filled with bright white light and a sound like thunder. Remus and Peter automatically went for their wands, letting go of each other to turn to face whatever threat awaited them. When the light faded and their eyes adjusted, they levelled them on the blonde woman, still dressed in jeans and purple jacket, standing in the middle of the room. 

She glared at their wands with her hands on her hips. “Put those away,” she hissed, taking what Remus recognised as the dimension jump from her neck. “You could put someone's eye out.”

“Why should we?” Peter called, his wand hand trembling slightly. “Who are you?”

In spite of their raised wands, the woman turned and walked over to the TARDIS. She regarded it for a moment before bowing her head and laying a hand on her doors. “I’m sorry, old friend. Somewhere out there is a girl in a shop who’ll never know there's so much more to life,” she whispered reverently. 

The police box whirred to life in a frenzy at her touch. Somewhere deep inside it, a cloister bell knelled ominously and the woman laughed. “Cheeky bitch,” she whispered, patting the box before turning back to Remus, Peter and Dumbledore. “Oi! I thought I told you to put those away!”

“You gave us no reason to,” Remus said, cringing as he felt the polyjuice starting to wear off. He fought down the nausea as he reverted to his own form, levelling his wand once again as it subsided.

“Hello again,” the woman said, wiggling her fingers at him with a smile. “That’s...impressive.”

“Nothing special,” Remus said, frowning at her. “Now, what the hell do you want?”

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She slowly let it out and met his eyes from across the room, something in him still wanting to recoil and look away from her. “I want to help you.”

“Why?” Peter asked, stepping closer when Remus’s wand started to dip. His hair was rapidly turning from red back to dark blond. 

“Because our sensors picked up a disturbance in the Rift when Black disappeared. Our Cardiff office was looking into it and they discovered the Rift had taken something--or in this case, some _one_ \--and deposited it in a parallel Cardiff in a parallel universe.”

“If what you say is true, how could he have survived that?” Dumbledore asked, worry seeping into his voice. “He would have had to cross the Void, and nothing can survive that without a capsule.”

“There’s something coming from across the stars, as I’ve already explained, sir,” she said imploringly, looking between the three men. She met first Remus's and then Peter’s eyes. “The man I’m looking for--the only man in the whole of creation who can now stop it--is in that universe. My universe. I need to find him.”

“You love him,” Remus said, seeing the way her eyes softened as she talked of him. 

“He saved me,” she said, smiling widely, “showed me life is more than just chips and a dead end job. He taught me there are things bigger and better than us in this universe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Remus said, stepping closer to her despite his the uneasiness she made him feel. “But why try to help us get Sirius back?” 

“Because he’s meant to be here,” she said, stepping forward and taking his hands in hers. “He’s very important to the time line. Without him in this universe, they’ll be a paradox, not that that matters if the Darkness can’t be stopped, but he’s needed here.” She smiled reassuringly, her dark eyes soft. “And you love him. I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose the person you love to a whole other world.”

“I’m going to ask you one last time, and I want an answer: why should I trust you?” he asked, trying to ignore the almost painful tingling of her skin against his. “What’s in it for you if we get Sirius back?”

“I’ve given you no reason to trust me,” she said, dropping his gaze and hands and cleared her throat. To Dumbledore, she said, “You knew the Doctor, sir?”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “I met him once. I believe it was his second regeneration. He was travelling with a young Scotsman called Jamie.”

The woman smiled bitterly. “But not the man I’m looking for. A different Doctor, from a different time and a different world.”

“But if he’s the same Doctor, he’s the same great man,” Dumbledore sighed, looking back at the TARDIS. “I’m afraid this old girl didn’t make it past the Time War. She’s dying.”

The woman stared at the deep gash along the TARDIS. “Only Dalek weaponry could do that to a TARDIS. He must have sacrificed himself when he destroyed the Daleks, Gallifrey and the Time Lords along with them. She needs to be moved now that she's become a mausoleum. Preferably some place where she can grow if the dimension dams fail and somewhere secure. The Doctor's grave is potentially the most dangerous place in the universe.” 

“Please tell me he didn’t in your world...” Dumbledore trailed off, looking down at his boots forlornly. “If he did, then it’s the end of everything.”

“I met him just after the Time War. He was travelling alone with the knowledge he had killed two of the greatest races in the universe. He was in his tenth regeneration when we parted three years ago.” 

“And this Doctor can just stop the universe from ending?” Peter scoffed, still not lowering his wand. “What exactly is he a doctor of, then?”

“Everything,” the woman said, with the hint of a smile. “He has many different names--to his enemies he’s the Oncoming Storm, Bringer of Darkness, Destroyer of Worlds--but ‘Doctor’ suits him best. It’s where we got the word from, actually.” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to inspect the TARDIS once more. “I’ve been pulled across the universes, trying to find the proper one. We _need_ the Doctor to stop this.”

“Stop what?” Peter said, stepping menacingly forward. “I’m tired of everyone talking in bloody riddles.”

“The Darkness,” she said, turning hollow eyes on him. “It’s coming from across the stars and only the Doctor can stop it.”

“You’re repeating yourself!” Peter said, voice laced with more venom than Remus had ever heard him use. “What does that _mean_?”

“It means that every single universe is in danger,” she said curtly, looking to Dumbledore, who nodded. “This world, mine, the one your friend—“ she turned to Remus “—your lover—is trapped in. We need to act now and you need to trust me. The Darkness is simply that--darkness. Darkness unending as the very walls of the universes crack and collapse until the everything is sucked into the nothingness of the Void. It's the death of all the worlds and everything in them..” 

“The stars are disappearing,” Dumbledore said, crossing to Peter and, placing his hand on his arm, lowered his wand for him. “It’s already started. This is our only chance to get Sirius back before it’s too late. Once the Doctor takes care of this, the walls will be sealed once more, just as they should have always been. Sirius will become trapped there forever.”

“And we can’t let Voldemort get hold of this technology or learn about the Rift,” Remus said, his voice cracking. “But that won’t matter if this world--if every world--no longer exists. This daft war will have been for nothing. There’s no point, no sense fighting if what we’re fighting for will be gone. And without Sirius, there's no point in my going on at all.”

“Moony,” Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know what he means to you, but this could be some sort of trick. We don’t even know her name!”

“She’s the big, bad wolf. That's all I need to go on,” Remus glanced slowly between his friend and the woman. He met her eyes and, after a moment, said, “Let’s do this.”

“Remus, no!” Peter cried, starting towards him.

Dumbledore grabbed him by the elbow, holding him back. “Peter, this is what we have to do. We don’t have a choice.”

“But what about us?” he said, looking up at Dumbledore, then Remus. “What are James and I going to do if we lose you too?”

“There’s no chance I’ll make it to tomorrow with a war on,” Remus said, not meeting his friend’s eyes. “We’d do the same for you.”

Peter laughed, the sound hollow. “No, you wouldn’t. Not if it wasn’t him. Not even for James.” 

Remus took the vial of polyjuice from his belt and tossed it to Dumbledore before turning his back on his friends. He took the dimension jump from the woman and placed it around his neck. “How does this thing work?”

“You just push the button,” she said, smiling. 

Remus rolled his eyes, lamenting asking a question with such an obvious answer. “How will you get back?”

“My time’s almost up here. I’ll be heading back soon.”

Remus placed his hand over the button and, turning his head, said to Dumbledore and Peter, “If I don’t make it back--“

“Moony, please. Don’t.”

“Just tell my mam I love her, yeah?”

“Of course,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “Good luck, Remus.”

Remus nodded his thanks and turned to the woman. “Before we go, may I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is,” she said, her full lips tugging downward in a frown.

“What’s your name?”

She met his eyes. “My name is Rose. Rose Tyler.”

“Thank you, Rose,” Remus said and pressed the large yellow button on the dimension jump. He disappeared in a flash of light.

“Miss Tyler?” Dumbledore called, a frown darkening his eyes.

“Yes?” 

“Bring them home,” he said, regarding her seriously.

“Yes, sir,” she said and slowly faded from sight.

The pair fell into silence, staring at the places where Remus and Rose had vanished. 

“Now what do we do?” Peter said quietly but bitterly, not meeting Dumbledore’s eyes.

“For now, we call James,” the headmaster replied, drawing his wand and conjuring his patronus. “And then we wait.”

***

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked, following Harkness and Jones across Mermaid Quay, lagging behind them. 

“Work,” Harkness called back, glancing at him over his shoulder. “Do try to keep up.”

“We can’t all be as bloody tall as you lot,” Sirius shouted back, surprising himself by smiling when Jones chuckled.

“Remind you of anyone, Jack?” he asked as they started down a flight of stairs leading to a rickety shop front. Sirius trailed along behind him, carefully watching Harkness as his steps slowed.

Harkness sighed, stopping at the door. “Yep,” he said, smiling tightly at Jones and pressing a few buttons on the wrist strap Sirius had never seen him without. He suddenly smiled roguishly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t have as good a right hook as Owen.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow as the pair laughed. “Should I be insulted?”

“Nope,” Jones said, pushing the door open. 

Neither of them said anymore about their former teammate. Sirius followed Harkness through the door, entering a small, dingy shop filled with travel brochures and maps. He sneezed, covering his nose with his sleeve as the stuffy air assaulted his nostrils. 

“Sorry about that,” Jones said, an embarrassed smile on his face as he let the door bang shut behind him. Sirius didn’t fail to notice the multiple locking mechanisms sliding into place. “No one’s really been up here in a while.”

“No problem,” Sirius said, looking around the dimly lit room. To one side was a wall of bricks, the detritus of the shop kept clear of it, and behind the counter was a doorway, replete with beaded curtains, leading to what he assumed was a back room. “It’s...charming.”

Harkness snorted, sharing a look with a smirking Jones. “That’s one word for it,” the American drawled, clapping him on the shoulder.

Sirius took a step towards the desk. He picked up whatever was on top--a newspaper dated 5 April. He skimmed the headline before throwing it back onto down. “Is this a part of Torchwood?” he asked, turning back towards his companions.

“This is the tourist office,” Jack said, pushing back his greatcoat and stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s a cover for the Hub.”

“And you’re showing me this why?” Sirius said, shaking his head. “I don’t need the PR tour. Again.” 

Harkness smiled. “This is going to be your job until we can get you settled in.”

Sirius glanced around the room, frowning. “And I’m supposed to do what, exactly?”

“Make sure no one gets in who isn’t supposed to, do a bit of paperwork when you get a chance,” Jones said, shrugging. “Maybe dust a bit and keep the brochures current."

“So...I’m supposed to be a sort of guard dog?” Sirius asked, quickly transforming into Padfoot.

Jones rolled his eyes, but Harkness laughed loudly. He reached out a hand, stroking the big black dog’s head, and said, “Maybe not quite so literal.”

Padfoot pressed his head back into Harkness’s hand, his canine senses taking over as the man scratched _right there_ behind his ear. He turned back as soon as his leg started to pound the floor of its own accord, shaking his head and rubbing at his ear.

“The fleas I can deal with, but I’ll never get used to that,” he confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t know the first thing about being a secretary.”

“That makes three of you, then,” Jones sighed. “And the politically correct term nowadays is 'administrative assistant.' I’ll show you where everything goes when I get the chance.”

“I’m not taking your job, am I?” Sirius asked, worried. “I mean, I don’t want to take your place.”

“Relax. You never could,” Harkness said, crossing his arms and settling beside Jones. “We need more people in the field. Until you’re through with training, we could use you up here.”

“Really? You’re not just making up something for me to do?” Sirius asked, looking between the two. 

Jones shook his head. “I’ll show you where everything goes and get you into the mainframe, but I’ll be working more in the field alongside Jack and Gwen.”

Sirius didn’t miss the pained expression on Harkness’s face, making him look almost childlike in his despair. He also noticed the way Jones was resolutely not looking at him. 

“So, I start off here and then what?” he asked with a smile he didn’t feel. Secretly, his heart was beating ferociously, his own fear of the unknown feeding off Harkness and Jones’s combined sombreness. 

“We’ll see how well you work in the field,” Harkness said, emulating his smile with one that was more of a grimace. “For now, this is the safest arrangement for all of us.”

Sirius felt heat fill his cheeks. “I’m a perfectly qualified Auror and field operative! I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine.”

“And I’ve seen things that could make you great-grandchildren’s hair curl. More than any one person should ever see,” Harkness spat bitterly, his blue eyes burning like ice. “It isn’t the same as it was, Sirius Black. This isn’t the Cardiff you left behind.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sirius bit back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can, Sirius,” Jones said, giving him a small smile of confidence before turning towards Harkness. He placed a hand on his chest and the pleading look of love he gave him was enough to break Sirius’s heart. He had no one to look at him like that anymore. “Jack, let it go. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Harkness said, sheepishly trying to make a joke. His eyes never left Jones’s face. “That’s about as bad as ‘what could possibly go wrong.’”

Jones just smiled, playfully cuffing Jack around the head as he pulled away from him. Harkness chuckled lightly, catching his arm and pulling him close for a kiss. 

“You’re right,” Harkness whispered, Sirius straining to hear him. “We’re here, the world isn’t ending for once and almost everything is as it should be.”

One of Jones’s eyebrows shot up, regarding Harkness with long-suffering humour. “Whatever, Jack,” he said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the desk. Harkness’s eyes never left him. 

Jones reached behind the desk and pushed a big red button. Sirius jumped when the empty wall swung open to reveal a dark corridor. 

“And that leads...?” he said, walking to it and peering around the door to an industrial lift and a flight of stairs. 

“Down to the Hub,” Harkness said, passing him with a grin. He looked at Jones back in the small office, his grin softening. “Dinner at Giovanni’s tonight?”

“Only if my boss lets me out on time for once,” Jones deadpanned, but Sirius could hear a tease in his voice. “He’s a bit of a slave driver when he wants to be.”

Harkness smiled, expression soft and voice gentle when he said, “I’ll have a word with him.”

Sirius’s mind wandered as Harkness gave them a mock salute, his thoughts drifting to Remus and what they might have been doing that night. Maybe they would have gone out to dinner too, nothing too posh but still nice enough. He would have ordered wine and told Remus how he felt all over again. Or maybe he would have grabbed something from that little Chinese take away on their street. Remus could have broken out that bottle of wine they’d been saving for a special occasion and then they would have made love, words of devotion and promises neither could keep reverently whispered against lips and familiar skin. 

He started when he heard Jones clear his throat. “You all right?”

Sirius hastily wiped at his misty eyes, mentally cursing himself, and turned around, leaning back against the door frame. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “I was just off with the faeries.”

Jones winced slightly and picked an imaginary piece of lint from his waistcoat. “It’s okay to remember him, you know,” he almost whispered.

“But it's not like he's dead or anything, Merlin willing. I'm just gone, and who knows if he'll even think of me in fifteen years time,” Sirius said, voice trembling. He looked up, studying Jones’s face. “I’m never going to see him again, am I?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Nothing is impossible. Not really. But....”

“But what? ‘I’ll always have my memories?’” Sirius scoffed, eyes narrowing when Jones refused to look at him. “What if it was Harkness that was gone? Would memories be enough?”

Jones’s eyes were steely when he looked back up. “I’ve lost more people I loved than you’ll ever know. He’s the only one who’s ever came back. More than once, he came back and he always will. Memories are all I have left of my friends from London and the woman I was going to marry. And here's the really great part: One day, two thousand or two billion years from now I don't know if Jack will even remember my name, let alone what I looked like or how my voice sounded or if I took my coffee with milk or sugar.”

Jones's stride was clipped as he walked away and Sirius’s anger left him in a rush. “I’m sorry,” he said defeatedly. “This is all so strange. I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_.”

“You learn to survive,” Jones said, voice gruff, “because they wouldn’t want you to give up because they’re gone.”

Sirius pushed away from the wall, the door closing of its own accord behind him, and kicked at the carpet with the toe of his trainer. “What was her name?”

“Lisa.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, walking over to the man and standing beside him. “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have,” Jones said, the soft look Sirius had noted he reserved for Harkness washing over his face. “In a way, she brought me to Jack, even if it meant my world falling apart in the process.”

Sirius sighed. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Jones said, meeting his eyes, and Sirius got the feeling that, for once, someone in this world understood what he was going through.

“Right. Now that’s enough of that,” he said, changing the subject, “what do I need to know about this place?”

Jones chuckled and moved towards the computer. He pressed a button and it flared to life. “Let’s get you into the system first. I’ll walk you through mainframe. It’s really quite simple once you get the hang to it.”

“Is that one of those compudder things they’re always going on about in science fiction films?” Sirius asked, eyebrows knitting.

“It’s a _com-pu-ter_ ,” Jones enunciated. “They didn’t have them when you left, did they? If I remember correctly they only went on the civilian market in the eighties.”

“And you said that decade was bad,” Sirius joked, looking up as the main door opened and Cooper walked in. In her hands was a tray of cups with a green, stylised mermaid logo; Sirius’s mouth began to water as the scent of coffee wafted over to him. 

She smiled and handed one of the cups to Jones, who took it appreciatively. “What are we talking about?” she asked, turning her smile on Sirius. 

“The Eighties,” Ianto deadpanned, “and the relative horribleness of them.”

Cooper laughter. “I think I still have all my cabbage patch dolls' birth certificates tucked away in a box somewhere.” She took another of the cups from the tray and held it out to Sirius. “I didn’t know how you take it so I got black, if you don’t mind.”

Sirius smiled and took it, taking a long draught. “It’s perfect,” he said and frowned at the logo on the cup. “What is ‘Starbucks?’”

“A coffee chain that could learn a lot from Ianto,” Cooper said, smiling. She sat the tray down on the desk and took her own cup. “So, what’s up for today?”

“Jack wants to check out that Weeping Angel sighting in Llandaff,” Jones said, typing something into the computer before writing it down on a post-it. “There’s been a rash of disappearances.”

Cooper groaned. “Great. I hope he’s coming with me.”

“Do you think he’d let any of us go alone when there’s temporal mechanics involved?” Ianto asked, handing the post-it to Sirius. “That’s your user name and temporary password. You just type it into the log-in screen when you turn the computer on.”

Cooper sighed and sipped at her coffee. “We need more people.”

“Tell that to Jack,” Ianto said, sparing a glance at her. “He’s had the paperwork on his desk for weeks. I guess it’s still a bit too soon to find someone to fill the void.”

Sirius half-listened to them and moved around to the computer when Jones moved back. He stared at the keyboard for a moment before pecking at the proper keys and entered his information. He tried to push the “log in” button on the monitor, frowning when nothing happened. He tried again, growling in frustrated until Jones reached around him and pressed a button labelled “return” on the keyboard. Sirius smiled awkwardly and stared at the swirling blue screen that appeared after a moment. It was mesmerizing and somewhat relaxing, and he found himself zoning out as Cooper and Jones talked. 

“Well, I guess I’d better head downstairs before Jack’s coffee gets cold,” Cooper said, smiling at Sirius and Jones in turn. She reached across the desk and pressed the red button. “Oh, by the way,” she said, turning back as she started to leave, “did you find that file Tosh was working on?”

Jones shook his head. “She buried it pretty deep in the system. I haven’t found anything yet, but I’ll let you know if I do.”

Cooper smiled, crossing the room to press a kiss to Jones’s cheek. “I’ll see what I can find. But then I’m rubbish at stuff like that compared to you.”

Jones blushed. “I could say the same about her.” 

Cooper straightened his tie, patting his chest before disappearing through the door. Sirius watched her go, wondering what they were talking about, and Jones stepped into the back room as soon as she turned to leave. Neither of them noticed the computer screen flicker, a video feed of a sandy haired man and a ghost from Torchwood’s past appearing on screen. By the time Sirius had turned back to the computer and Jones had reappeared holding a piece of paper and a stun gun, the familiar blue swirls were back in place. 

***

Ianto sighed as the sirens wailed and the cog door rolled back. Beside him, Black started, one hand clinging to the desk as the other automatically went to his right back pocket. 

“Here,” he said, pointing to an icon on the screen. He smiled as Black moved the mouse to it and clicked. “This is the requisition spreadsheet. You enter the price and quantity stated on the physical forms so we can--”

“Have a digital record of expenses come tax time,” Black said, glancing at the paperwork on the desk in front of him. “Got it.”

“Good,” Ianto said, a certain feeling of pride overcoming him. He glanced up at the cog door. Jack and Gwen were arguing quietly as they shrugged out of their wet coats. “You work on that for a while. Come find me when you’re finished.”

Black nodded and he stood, checking his watch. He took a breath to steel himself and walked down the stairs to the lower levels of the Hub. Gwen turned to him as soon as he joined them.

“Tell him he’s an idiot,” she said, glaring at Jack.

Ianto glanced at Jack and turned back to Gwen with a slight smile and raised brow. “Nothing he doesn’t know already.”

“ _Et tu_ , Ianto?” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Someone here thinks it’s not a bright idea to see how good Black is with his magic.”

“And a bloody gun!” Gwen hissed quietly, eyes darting between them and the upper levels. “He could kill us!”

“We need to see what he can do,” Jack said, folding his greatcoat over his arm. 

“But—“

“No buts. I’ll be the only one on the range with him. Both of you will be wearing vests and armed just in case,” Jack said, looking between Gwen and Ianto. “Understood?”

“I still don’t like this, Jack,” Gwen sighed and Ianto could see the moment she acquiesced, her shoulders slumping slightly as she ran a hand through her hair.

“Neither do I,” Jack said, placing his hand on Ianto’s back between his shoulder blades. “But it’s either we work with him or we send him to Flat Holm. Frankly, he’s less of a danger here where one of us can monitor him. Besides, I don’t like the idea of setting him loose with magical powers until we know what he can do with them.”

“He seems like he’s adjusting well given the circumstances,” Ianto said, glancing back up to the desk Owen once occupied. “He’s a fast learner.”

“You spent yesterday with him,” Jack said to Gwen, leaning into Ianto as he spoke. “What did you think?”

Gwen shrugged. “Well, the culture shock is to be expected. But I think it’s still too early. We should get to know him a little more, give him a little time to adjust before we welcome him to Torchwood. If that’s what we’re really going to be doing.” 

Jack stared down at his boots for a while, his hand slowly sliding down Ianto’s back and Ianto shifted to take his hand. Jack’s grip was almost painful.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, not meeting Gwen’s eyes, “and under any other circumstances we’d give him that time. But time is a luxury we don’t have right now. We’re short staffed as it is and we need all the help we can get.”

“What about Martha?” Gwen added quickly. “She could help. Or your Doctor.”

Ianto felt more than saw Jack wince. 

“Martha’s been recalled indefinitely,” Jack said in a lifeless monotone. “And there’s nothing the Doctor can do for him. He’s just another person lost in time.”

“Well, there’s got to be someone, Jack,” Gwen sighed, defeated. 

“There was,” Ianto said, looking back at Tosh’s empty desk. Gwen and Jack followed his line of sight, each quiet, lost in thought and memory.

Jack sighed after a while, scrubbing at his cheek with his free hand. “First we’ll get Black settled in, then we’ll start recruiting. Until then, no one does anything stupid and we liaise with Cardiff PD and UNIT when needed. It takes time to build a team.”

Gwen nodded, no argument left in her. “I miss them,” she whispered, hugging Jack and Ianto in turn. 

“We all do,” Ianto whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she pulled away from him. He cleared his throat and, stepping away, let go of Jack’s hand. “How did it go?”

“False alarm,” Jack said, sharing a pained look with Gwen. “Just some teenagers playing silly buggers. We put the fear of Torchwood into them.”

“I’d rather the Weeping Angels,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. He smiled as Gwen giggled.

“Anything but teenagers,” she said, feigning a shudder. “Tell me, Jack, is there anything more terrifying in the universe than teenagers?”

Jack pretended to think for a moment. “You when you haven’t had your coffee yet?”

Gwen placed a hand over her heart and gasped theatrically. “You wound me.”

Jack placed his hands on his hips when Ianto and Gwen laughed, trying not to break into a grin himself. He failed. “All right you two,” he said after a moment. “I want the firing range ready in—“ he checked his watch “—half an hour.”

“Fine,” Gwen said through stifled giggles. “I’ll get the guns.”

“And I’ll get the targets,” Ianto said, offering Gwen his arm. 

“Don’t forget,” Jack said, sobering. “Vests and armed. And I don’t mean stun guns, Ianto.”

Ianto nodded and Gwen solemnly met his eyes. 

“We won’t take any chances,” she said, looking up at Ianto and nodding her affirmation.

“Good,” Jack said, inclining his head. “If all goes well, we’ll head out after we see what our guest can do.”

“Then what are we waiting for, Ianto?” Gwen said, turning towards the stairs to the lower levels. “Let’s get a move on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ianto said, letting Gwen pull him away. 

Jack watched until they were well out of sight, his stomach filled with butterflies. He took a deep breath and hurried to his office, pausing only to hang up his coat. Crossing to the secure archives, he entered the security codes and, one hand falling to the gun at his belt, opened the vault. With a look back out at the Hub where Black was busy pecking at one of the computers, he took out the man’s wand.


	17. Chapter 17

Remus tumbled to the floor when he reappeared, and, winded, lay on the cool surface for a moment as he concentrated on breathing again. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps hurrying towards him, high heels clipping and scratching across the concrete and echoing off what he could tell were high, most likely industrial ceilings. He was glad when they stopped, easing the ache settling just behind and between his eyes. Whoever knelt beside him smelled faintly of Chanel No 5, a pleasing contrast to the mildew and damp of the vault he had just left behind.

“Are you all right?” asked a kind voice. 

He opened his eyes to see a woman, her hair dark hair spilling from her bun and falling into worried brown eyes. 

“Easy,” she said as he slowly sat up, her hands gentle as she steadied him and automatically started to check him for any injuries. She sat back on her heels when she found none. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Remus shook his head. “Just a bit out of breath, that’s all,” he said, trying to smile at her. "Though I could do with a paracetamol, if you've got any."

She smiled and stood, offering him a hand. He took it and climbed to his feet, easily towering over the petite woman. He let his gaze drift, taking in his surroundings. They were in some sort of warehouse, with high windows letting in dim, dusty light. The space was sparsely decorated, a couch on one end flanked by a bank of computers that, Remus thought, looked straight out of a science fiction film. Beside the computers stood a series of mirrors and generators set in a circle, scores of wires running from them to computers and back again. 

The woman's eyes sparkled mischievously when he looked to her. “Where am I?” he asked, trepidation and awe colouring his voice. 

“London, Mr Lupin. It’s almost like you never left,” she said, breaking into a demure grin and sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Doctor Toshiko Sato.”

Remus nodded, taking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr Sato.”

“Likewise,” Toshiko said, her eyes lighting up as one of the computers made a repetitive pinging noise. She rushed over to it and pressed a few buttons, the noise ceasing. “That’ll be Rose,” she said to Remus and beckoned him over. “You may want to stand back.”

He hurried to her side, his breath leaving him once again as the mirror contraption whirred to life, bright like filling the small space like the sun. He shielded his eyes as a sound like thunder rumbled ominously through the warehouse and the light faded, the device once again falling still. He uncovered his eyes and saw Rose standing in the circle, a pensive expression on her face. 

She looked up, her expression not changing when she saw Remus standing beside Toshiko. 

“I’m assuming it went well,” Toshiko said, worry in her voice as Rose crossed to her and wrapped her in a hug. 

“You were right,” Rose said quietly as she pulled away. “It was the TARDIS, damaged from the Time War but still trying to hang on.”

“And the Doctor?”

“Dead,” Rose said hollowly. “The TARDIS is a mausoleum.”

The other woman sighed and moved to the computers. She picked up a biro, crossing something off a piece of paper Remus couldn’t see clearly from where he stood. “So we’re going with our original plan,” she said, almost aside to herself, and turned to look between Rose and Remus. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Positive,” Rose said, squaring her shoulders. “But first we get Black back to his own time.”

Toshiko took a seat at the workstation and pulled up something on one of the monitors. She reached for a pair of glasses and slipped them on, quickly scanning through the information on the screen.

Remus moved over to the women when Rose motioned for him, his hands trembling slightly. On two of the screens was a shifting whirl of numbers and graphs, all gibberish to him. His heart fell and he stared down at his boots to try to stop the unwelcome tears of frustration from falling. 

He cleared his throat, both women turning to look at him. “Could I at least be filled in on this plan? You know, since it’s my boyfriend we’re going to be getting back and all?” He tried to make light of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile at them.

The women shared a look and Rose nodded curtly when Toshiko raised one perfectly shaped brow. 

“Remus, meet Tosh,” she said as she moved to pull another chair over. She motioned for Remus to sit when she placed it beside Tosh’s. “She’s our resident technical genius.”

“I’ve yet to meet a system I can’t hack,” Tosh said, smiling modesty as a slight blush coloured her cheeks. 

“And this is Torchwood London,” Rose continued, motioning to the warehouse. “This building was used by the original regime before the People’s Republic took over. Tosh works for our Cardiff branch.”

“And they’re the ones getting Sirius back?” Remus asked, transfixed by the numbers on one of the monitors. 

Rose nodded. “They were the ones who detected it, yes. They’ll be the ones to help you once we’re prepared. Tosh was working on this—“she pointed toward the mirrors—“when she received the data from Ianto and Jack.”

“Is this it?” he asked Tosh, nodding to the readings on screen.

“Yes,” she said, smiling gently and pushing her glasses back up her nose. She pointed to a series of squiggly lines. “This was the Rift activity when Black was taken. As you can see, there’s a _huge_ negative spike followed by an equally large positive one.”

Remus nodded, staring at even more squiggly lines as they were pointed out to him. What she was saying was about as clear as mud.

“Jack thought it might have been something big coming through,” she said, pulling up another window, “but we didn’t detect any Rift activity in our universe. It seems we just picked up the echo.”

“We did, however, detect an identical spike in the world he’s in,” Rose cut in. “The one I need to get back to. I checked it out before I met you in Hogsmeade and again yesterday. He’s with Torchwood Cardiff there.”

“Is he all right?” Remus asked immediately, breath catching as his heart jumped into his throat and his blood pounded through his ears.

Rose nodded, offering him a small smile. “As far as I can tell. The last time I saw him he enjoying an afternoon off with Gwen.”

Toshiko stilled next to Remus and let out a long, quivering breath. Meekly, she asked, “Gwen’s alive?”

“She’s not your Gwen,” Rose said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Tosh nodded. “Of course she isn't. What about Owen?”

Rose was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed. “Gwen, Jack, Ianto and Black are the only ones I’ve seen,” she said, staring blankly ahead and decidedly not looking at Tosh. 

"You can tell me if I'm dead there, you know." Tosh’s head fell, and Remus could see the wetness that gathered in her dark lashes before dripping onto her blouse. “I'd just hoped Gray—”

“I know, Tosh. I know,” Rose said, squeezing her shoulder. “But we can’t dwell in the past. It won't bring them back.”

“I just miss them,” Tosh said with a sigh. She took a deep breath, collecting herself, and shrugged away from Rose's touch. “Right. This—“she turned to Remus and indicated a different screen—“is a way for us to see what’s going on in the other worlds we've been monitoring. We originally built it to try to get a message to the Doctor, but it still has a few kinks and he has even worse timing.”

“Can it be used to find Sirius?” he asked, hope flaring inside his chest. “I just want to know he’s okay.”

“I’ve been tweaking it. Hopefully we can get a lock on him without sending their Hub into lockdown.”

“Can that happen?” Rose asked, a mix of worry and curiosity in her voice. 

“We’re about to find out,” Tosh said, throwing her and Remus a mischievous grin before entering a command. 

Remus waited with bated breath as the twirling Torchwood logo on the screen dissolved, flickering between blackness and a snow of green zeros and ones. He gasped when the screen suddenly filled with colour, showing a slightly blurry video feed of Sirius and a tall, dark haired man looking at and talking to someone off screen.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, reaching out and running a finger over Sirius's image. “He’s alive.”

Tosh took his hand in both of hers, patting it before letting go. “He’s in good hands.”

“Who’s that he’s with?” Remus asked, eyes transfixed on the monitor as the man exited stage left. "He's quite...fit."

“That’s Ianto Jones,” Tosh said proudly, giggly quietly and sharing a look with Rose. 

“He looks good in a suit,” Rose said, humour in her voice. “Pity. There’s no way we’d get ours into one without knocking him out first.”

Toshiko laughed. “He wore one to the wedding, remember?”

Rose waved her off. “That doesn’t count though, does it? Jack was undressing him the moment they finished saying ‘I do.’”

Tosh rolled her eyes, her smile never failing even as she turned to Remus. “You ready to get him back?”

“More than anything,” he said, sighing as the screen suddenly went black.

“Good,” Tosh said, removing her glasses and standing. “You’ll need to come back to Cardiff with me. You won’t have much time once you enter his world. Travel between parallel worlds is a bit tricky seeing as how it shouldn't be possible at all.”

Remus stood, watching as she walked over to the mirrors. Rose stood beside him, hands stuck in her back pockets.

“You see, every time you travel through the walls of the universe, you rip a hole in them. Eventually those walls are compromised and collapse and everything gets sucked back into the Void.” Tosh paused, hands on her hips and studied her reflection in one of the mirrors. “But we’ve developed this,” she added, motioning to the mirrors around her. “We call it a dimension cannon. With it we can travel through universes at will without having to wait for the jump discs to recharge. Theoretically we could use it to travel in time, too, with the proper conduit.”

“How does it work?” Remus asked, stepping towards the mirrors.

Rose groaned. “Don’t get her started,” she complained good-naturedly, smiling at Tosh. “We’ll be here until the sun explodes.”

Tosh raised an eyebrow and smirked. “And that could be any day now.”

“My point exactly,” Rose said and turned to face Remus. “Torchwood Cardiff has constructed a temporary cannon. They’ll be the ones helping you get Sirius back.”

“What about you?” he asked, worried Peter had been right and this was some sort of trick after all. 

“I’ve got some unfinished business to attend to. You need to get to him and back to your own world before I’m done,” she said, meeting Tosh’s eyes from across the room. 

“What happens if I don’t?” he asked, staring between the two women. 

“You’ll both be stuck,” Tosh said simply, "which will cause a paradox in your own world." She walked back over to the workstation and pulled a large, black leather bag from beneath it. “Are you ready, Mr Lupin?”

“But what am I supposed to _do_ to get him back?” Remus asked. He could feel his knees shaking and a wave of nausea churning in his empty stomach. 

“You’ll be briefed once we get to Cardiff,” Tosh said, laying one of her small hands on his forearm. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get him back.”

“Break a leg, mate,” Rose said, offering Remus her hand. 

He took it, firmly shaking it. He let go as quickly as he could, for her touch burned and the image of a golden wolf howling throughout the entirety of time itself filled his consciousness. 

“This is where we part,” she said, smiling coyly at him. “Just get him back. You need each other and your world needs him.”

“We’re nothing special,” Remus said, stepping away from her and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Whatever you say,” Rose said, her eyes sparking with mirth. “Tosh. It’s been wonderful.”

Tosh nodded and shouldered her bag. “I’ll see you again soon,” she said and Remus could hear the slight question in her voice. 

Rose smiled, hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek before leaving the warehouse through one of the side doors. 

“Are you ready to head out?” Tosh asked as the door creaked shut behind Rose.

Remus nodded. “Since I knew he was gone.”

Tosh moved to the computers and started to shut them down. She waited until all the screens had gone black and the whirring of the machines had ceased before turning around. Remus saw her reach for her ear and, pressing something, say, “Ianto?”

Remus fell into step with her as she made her way across the warehouse, heels and voice echoing in the vast space. “We’re leaving now. I’ll meet you out front.”

She pulled her hand away from her ear. “It’s a comm device,” she told Remus with a hollow look. “It’s still a bit too reminiscent of Lumic’s tech for my tastes, but they’re the most efficient way for us to communicate.”

“Lumic?” Remus asked as they reached the door. He wrenched it open, wincing as the hinged squealed their complaint, and held it for her. 

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That’s all in the past now,” she said and took a strange device from her bag when Remus closed the door again. She pressed it to the lock, waiting a few seconds until a series of lights lit up the along device. Remus heard the tumblers slide into place and she pulled the device away with a triumphant smile. 

“That’s...unusual,” Remus said, one eyebrow raised. 

“It’s amazing,” Tosh gushed, eyes glazing. “It’s not just a lock pick; it can translate different languages in addition to storing information.”

“Fascinating,” Remus said sarcastically.

“This is nothing compared to some of the things we’ve come across,” she said, replacing it in her bag. 

Remus was about to say something when a large, sleek Range Rover came around the side of the warehouse, its windows dark and blue lights flashing along the pillars. 

“That’s us,” Tosh said, brightening, and stepped forward. The car came to a stop in front of them and Tosh immediately opened the passenger side back door, offering it to Remus. “Ready?”

Remus took a breath to settle himself, exhaling noisily. He climbed in and gave her a resigned look. “Let’s just get him home.”

Tosh nodded, closing the door behind him and slipping into the seat in front of him. 

“All right, Tosh?” the driver, a scruffier version of the young man Remus had seen with Sirius, asked and smiled at her.

“Perfect,” she said, returning his smile as she did up her seat belt. “Ianto, this is Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin meet Ianto Harkness-Jones.”

The young man met Remus’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. There was something Remus couldn’t quite place in his blue gaze, but he felt himself relax nonetheless. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Remus said, noticing the titanium band on his ring finger, blue lights reflecting off it, as they turned a corner. 

“So,” Tosh said, taking a small, hand-held computer from the glove box and settling back in her seat, “how’re things at home?”

“Jack’s decided he wants to keep Andy and Martha on,” Ianto said quietly and Remus drowned out their conversation. He rested his head against the cool window, starting when he noticed the zeppelins flying over the city. He closed his eyes, blocking the strange sight. He was asleep within minutes, exhaustion catching up with him and lulled by the hum of the motor and Tosh and Ianto’s soft voices. 

***

Sirius was so caught up in his work that when Harkness cleared his throat behind him he nearly fell from his chair. 

“Sorry,” Harkness said with a slight chuckle. He glanced at the spreadsheet Sirius had been working on. “You almost finished here?”

Sirius glared at him, cross at himself for having let his guard down. “Yeah,” he said, swivelling side to side in his chair. “Why?”

Harkness’s face went blank and, taking it from his pocket, held Sirius’s wand out to him handle first. 

“I think it’s about time we saw what you can do with this thing,” he said and Sirius swallowed hard, not failing to notice Harkness’s gun at his side. 

“You’re letting me have it?” he asked, taken aback. “Aren’t I a security risk or something?” 

“We need to see what you can bring to the team,” Harkness said, hand dropping to the butt of his revolver as Sirius took the wand from him.

Sirius smiled, grasping the wand firmly. Suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so lost any more; it was like being reunited with a part of himself that had been lost. “My job isn’t that much different, really,” he said, meeting Harkness’s eyes. He made a face. “Without the aliens, that is. We just deal with rogue wizards and dark magic.”

One corner of Harkness’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Sounds exactly the same.”

“Does it?” Sirius tried to laugh, but Harkness seemed a bit ill at ease. “So, what do you want me to show you?”

“Gwen and Ianto are down in the firing range,” Harkness said, crossing his arms over his chest and standing straighter, feet shoulder width apart. “It’s safer if we continued down there.” He looked around the Hub and Sirius looked over his shoulder at all the equipment, the water tower-cum-Rift Manipulator, the room with all sorts of strange weapons, the steps leading down to the medical bay.... 

“The firing range is on sub-level...four?” Sirius said, trying to remember the schematic of the Hub Jones had given him to memorise.

“Close,” Harkness said with a smile that contained the beginnings of pride. “Three.”

“Ah,” Sirius said, standing and pushing the chair back under the desk. “I meant to say three.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harkness dismissed. “It’s a big place. No one expects you to learn all its ins and outs in one day. If ever. I think there are some rooms even I’ve never been in.”

“You’ve been here longer than Ianto and Gwen?” Sirius asked, starting towards the staircase leading down to the lower levels. 

“A lot longer than them,” Harkness said tersely, following him. 

“When did you join up?” Sirius asked quietly, though his voice still echoed down the corridor.

“I didn’t so much join up as I wasn’t given a choice,” Harkness said and Sirius stopped, blocking his path. 

“You didn’t answer the question,” he said, half-turning towards the American. 

Harkness smiled his best shit-eating grin. “That’s because it’s none of your business,” he said and slipped past Sirius to hurry down the stairs. 

Sirius frowned after him. The man was a riddle. He reminded him a bit of Dumbledore, telling half-truths to, in reality, avoid saying anything at all. It was annoying; he hated being left in the dark, but Harkness sometimes seemed so tired and jaded for someone so young. Maybe he _was_ former CIA, like Jones had said. Or maybe he’d been a spy, like that Muggle James Brawn in the films Remus forced him to watch. That didn’t explain the coat and the clothes, though, or the model Spitfire on his desk. Was he like him? Lost in time and stranded in a place he didn't belong? Then, of course, there was the not dying thing. Sirius didn’t even want to begin to contemplate that. 

“Oi!” Harkness called from below, snapping him from his reverie. “You coming?”

Sirius shook his head and hurried down the stairs. “Sorry,” he mumbled when he caught up with Harkness.

Harkness just raised an eyebrow and pushed off the railings, striding across the platform and down the next level of stairs. Sirius followed behind him, trying not to stare. Had he misjudged Harkness? Did he even really know anything about him? Why was he starting to feel the beginnings of trust if he knew nothing about him other what Harkness wanted him to?

He was again pulled from his thoughts when he walked into Harkness with an “oomph!”

Harkness placed his hands on his biceps, carefully stepping back from him. He ducked to meet his eyes. “Are you all right? We can do this later if you don’t feel up to it.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sirius said, a fake smile plastering itself across his face. “I guess it’s just one of those days, you know?”

Harkness nodded warily, but let the subject drop. From the way he looked at him, Sirius knew he was concerned. He ignored him, shuffling his feet as Harkness pulled open the door in front of them. He followed him into a small booth, door banging loudly shut behind them, and scanned his surroundings. Cooper and Jones were sitting at two workstations in tense silence. Sirius saw the gun tucked into Cooper’s waist band and he was sure, underneath his jacket, Jones had a shoulder holster. Both were wearing ballistic vests like he'd seen the Muggle policemen wearing. He looked out the booth and down the length of the firing range. His nose scrunched in disgust. It was dank, stained by water damage, and at the far end of the range was a line of targets, each one depicting an attacking weevil. 

“Ready?” Harkness asked, sparing a glance at Cooper and Jones before turning to him.

“Am I supposed to aim at those?” he asked, pointing to the targets. 

Harkness glanced back at them and nodded. “Yep. Why?”

“Well, they’re cardboard and paper,” Sirius drawled as if he had the displeasure of having to make small talk with Snape. “They won’t hold up to the spells.”

Harkness turned to face the targets. “I hadn’t thought of that. Ianto, do we have anything else we could use? Disable Autons maybe?”

“I could transfigure something, you know,” Sirius interrupted, a mixture of humour and irritation colouring his voice when Jones glared at him.

“Show us,” Harkness challenged, opening the reinforced door leading out to the range. 

Sirius stalked out of the small booth, Harkness behind him, and went to a small table and chair set off to one side. He cringed at the various guns laid out before him, but he ignored them and instead took the chair. He sat it in front of him and, concentrating, transfigured it into a shop window dummy with the flick of his wand.

“That’s quite impressive,” Harkness said, crossing to the table and standing next to it.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Sirius said, grinning at him. He pointed his wand at the dummy. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.” 

It began to float and, with another flick, stayed suspended in mid-air. 

“I’m assuming you didn’t, I don’t know, sneak out last night and rig the place with mirrors and wires,” Harkness said, frowning at the dummy. He stepped forward and passed his hand through the empty air both above and below it.

“Of course not,” Sirius said, regarding the American with a wry grin. “What do you want me to do?”

“You’re the wizard,” Harkness shrugged, leaning against the table. “Whatever you want.”

Sirius sighed and thought for a moment. He smiled when an idea came to him and he whispered, “ _Tarantallegra_.” 

The dummy immediately began to dance the Charleston. Sirius glanced over at Harkness, the joy he felt at having his wand back waning at the pinched look on his face. He ended the spell, the dummy coming to stand at parade rest, and turned towards the American. 

“Look, I know this is odd to you, but I can’t really show you much. Magic is practical,” he said, staring at Harkness’s boots. “I can show you juvenile tricks and things every first year knows, but it’s different from using it in the field or in a duel.”

“Show me something useful then,” Harkness said quietly, pushing away from the table and crossing to him. “Something you’d use if you were with us, surrounded by hostile combatants. That—“he pointed to the dummy—“is your enemy. It wants to claim the planet and enslave the population. It will kill you or anyone who else so much as raises an eyebrow in question. What do you do?”

Sirius’s palms began to sweat. This wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be; he’d assumed it would be similar to his own experience as an Auror. But it wasn’t; compared to Torchwood, he was a glorified bobby. To enforce their laws, he tracked down and ultimately sent those who broke them to Azkaban. Even with the war, they were fighting to stop, by any means necessary, a madman’s genocide of their fellow witches and wizards. This was different. This was fighting for the survival of the entire _planet_ , not just wizarding Britain. It was more than blood purity or a deep-seated fear of Muggles, so fundamentally different from themselves that they were easy targets and scapegoats. This was fighting for something more than himself, something more than just magic. This was a fight for survival: not just his own, but that of every single person on the planet, magical or not, with the knowledge that he may die in the process, a small price to save all of humanity. But wasn’t that really what they were fighting for back home? The continuance of humanity—both wizard and Muggle. By defeating Voldemort, they were preventing war on a much larger scale, one that would encompass the whole of the wizarding world and bleed into the Muggles' to create a third great war. 

Still, there was only one spell he could think of that would satisfy Harkness.

“It’s despicable,” he whispered, meeting Harkness’s eyes. “Using it on another human is a one way ticket to Azkaban.”

“What is it?” Harkness asked, just a quietly. 

“One of three Unforgivable Curses,” Sirius spat, turning away from him. He began to shake, remembering the first time he had cast it. It had been in the heat of battle, just after Crouch has officially authorised their use. Given the choice between permanently disabling their attacker or saving Remus, he hadn’t thought twice. 

He pointed his wand at the dummy, a flash of green shooting from it and striking it with a noise like two trains colliding. The dummy fell to the floor, motionless, and reverted back to its original form. Sirius levitated the chair back to the table, where it clattered against the floor as it pushed itself in.

“When it’s you or them,” Harkness said coldly, “or them or the world, you don’t hesitate. You act, you do what you have to, and you fall apart later.”

Sirius nodded mutely. It was a lesson he knew well, but he was always reminded of his family, of Voldemort’s followers when he uttered those two hated words. He didn’t want to become like them. If he used those curses, even if it was to save a life by taking another, was he really any better or different? 

“I know,” he whispered eventually, lifting his gaze from the floor. “It’s part of my job, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Out there, this—“Harkness motioned around them—“isn’t a job. It’s a battlefield. One soldier to another, I think that’s something you should know all too well.”

Sirius quickly looked at Harkness, something clicking into place. “How many wars have you fought?”

Harkness didn’t answer right away. “Too many. And that’s just on this planet. I was a boy when I joined up, too young and too stupid to know it wasn’t all guts and glory. I’ve never stopped fighting since.” 

“What were you fighting?” Sirius asked, storing away the bit about wars on other planets for later contemplation.

“The worst sort of creatures imaginable,” he spat, turning on his heel and walking back to the table with the guns. Sirius didn’t know if he was talking about aliens or not. He supposed it didn’t matter, not really. They were all the same in the long run, weren’t they, sentient creatures, human or not, that went to war? 

Harkness returned with a gun and magazine, holding it out to Sirius, who carefully took it. The gun was heavy and unfamiliar in his hand, the matte black metal unnaturally cool. He stared at the clip for a moment before looking questioningly at Harkness.

“This is a modified Glock 17,” Harkness said, taking the gun from Sirius and showing him how to slide the magazine into place. He raised it, experimentally pointing it towards the targets on the back wall. He lowered it and handed it back to Sirius. “It’s standard issue for all field agents.”

Sirius stared down at the gun in his hand. “How does it work?”

One of Harkness’s eyebrows shot up. “Like any gun,” he said slowly, as if talking to a child, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “You cock it, aim and fire.” 

Sirius took the pair of yellow safety glasses and ear protectors Harkness handed him. He put them on, took a deep breath and let it out slowly before taking the stance he used for duelling.

“Good,” Harkness said, moving behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, raise your arm slowly and look down the barrel to centre the target in the sights.”

Sirius did as he was told, lining up the white dot on the front sight with the bull's-eye on one of the paper weevil's chest and tilting the barrel slightly upwards to bring the front sigh slightly higher than the rear ones.

“Now rack the slide to cock it and breathe in. Glocks have a 'Safe Action' system instead of a traditional external safety that needs to be disengaged. It has three safeties, two internal and one on the trigger itself, which means you never, ever put your finger on it unless you plan on firing. Pull the trigger back past the resistance, making sure you depress the little lever on it otherwise it won't move or disengage the internal safeties, and, on the exhale, fire.”

With his free hand, Sirius reached up and held onto the slide while pushing the frame forward as he’d seen Jones do the day Harkness had died and came back to life. He closed his eyes as he heard the bullet slide into the chamber, and, opening them, took a deep, calming breath as he lined up the sights once more. As he let it out, he squeezed the trigger. The gun fired and the recoil was something Sirius hadn’t been expecting. He stumbled back, looking between the gun now pointing at the ceiling and the target he had fired at. He heart started to pound against its prison of bone and sinew when he saw the hole, a perfect bull’s-eye in the middle of the target he had been aiming for. 

“Good aim,” Harkness said, removing his own ear protectors and letting them fall around his neck. 

Sirius held the gun out in front of him, staring at it. After a moment, offered it back to Harkness. “I like my wand better,” he said, gun shaking in his trembling fingers.

Harkness sighed and took it, removing the clip and sliding back the rack to dump the chambered round onto the floor. “You need to know how to shoot.”

Sirius sighed. “I understand that. It’s a necessity for you lot, but I prefer my wand—something that doesn’t guarantee doing harm.”

Harkness nodded and set the gun and clip back onto the table. “You start training tomorrow,” he said, not looking at Sirius. “You can use your wand in the field if you want—whatever you feel safest with and works for you—but you _need_ to know how to use a gun. I need to be able to let you work with Gwen or Ianto without compromising their safety should you find yourself in the middle of a fire fight or against something that your spells don't work on. We also can't have the general public knowing magic exists, just like we can't let them know aliens are real. Official first contact doesn't happen for a long time yet, and there is nothing in the history books about magic.”

Sirius took his wand from his pocket and looked down at it. He held it out to Harkness when he turned back around. 

“Keep it,” he said with a smile, but his eyes held a warning. 

Sirius’s heart swelled and he tucked it back into his pocket. “Thank you.”

Harkness waved him off and checked his watch. “What do you think about heading out early?”

Sirius was taken aback and looked over at the booth, Cooper smiling brightly and giving him the thumps up. “I guess that’s all right,” he said to Harkness, smiling himself. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your date.”

Harkness's smile lost its tension, becoming something softer and finally reaching his eyes. He chuckled softly to himself and said, “Don’t wait up for us.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and smiled in spite the envy and bitterness rising in his chest. He’d be spending another night on a stranger's sofa without Remus there to make it easier. “I won’t.”

***

Ianto sighed, relieved, when he entered the morgue. He’d been looking for Jack for the past half hour, unable to find him on the CCTV or in any of his usual hiding places. Ianto leaned against the door frame, watching Jack as he stood at a series of draws, hand on the one in which his brother rested in suspended animation. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and checked the time. He sighed again, loud enough for Jack to hear him, and started across the room.

“I thought you might have already headed out,” he said quietly as he wrapped his arms around Jack from behind.

Jack melted into the embrace, leaning back into him and turning his head for a kiss, the hand not braced against the door tightly grasping Ianto’s at his waist. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” Ianto said, extricating one hand. Reaching up, he trailed it along Jack’s arm, intertwining their fingers and pulling it from the drawer. “They’d understand, Jack.”

Jack sighed wearily. “We still need a doctor,” he said, briefly glancing at Gray's drawer—the same one he’d spent a hundred years of stasis in—before staring up at the ceiling. 

“We’ll find one soon,” Ianto said and nuzzled Jack’s cheek. 

“I know,” Jack said and turned in Ianto’s arms for a proper kiss. 

“Marie called today,” Ianto said when they parted, forehead resting against Jack’s. “She wants us to stop by Monday to sign the papers.”

Jack smiled brightly, his eyes lighting up. “Really?”

“Really,” Ianto said, leaning in to kiss Jack once more. 

“I still can’t believe we’re buying a house together,” Jack whispered, meeting Ianto’s eyes. “Pinch me?”

“Maybe later,” Ianto said and tugged on Jack's hand, slowly leading him towards the door. “We should get going. I want to get out of these clothes before dinner.”

“Keep talking like that and we won’t make it to the restaurant.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “When will I ever learn?”

Jack chuckled, squeezing Ianto’s hand. “Never, I hope.” He suddenly sobered and stopped. “Where’s Sirius?”

“Gwen thought he might like to have dinner with her and Rhys,” Ianto said as they started to walk again. “They left about twenty minutes ago.”

Jack nodded and leaned slightly into Ianto. “We should have them over after we move in. I could cook bœuf bourguignon! I learned from Julia Child herself.” His smile was infectious, and Ianto felt his lips tugging upwards despite his incredulity. 

“Julia Child, Jack?” he asked teasingly.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Jack said with a huff. “We met when I was in Paris on a mission for Torchwood. Have I told you that one?”

“Not yet,” Ianto said with a soft smile. 

“Well, we’ll fix that,” Jack said, returning his smile. “I met her in this quaint little market. There’d been reports the Doctor was in Paris, so I volunteered to go and check it out. She was quite a character,” he said, sighing wistfully, “and so very much in love with her husband.”

He turned and smiled at Ianto again before learning in for a tender kiss. They broke apart when Ianto’s stomach rumbled, Ianto blushing and Jack chuckling.

“How about we go get that dinner,” Jack said, smoothing his hands over Ianto’s waistcoat and buttoning his suit jacket over it. His hands lingered, slowly sliding down to rest on Ianto’s hips. “You look fine.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, about to retort when his stomach growled again. “All right, but you’re driving,” he said, taking his car keys from his pocket and tossing them to Jack. 

Jack caught them one-handed and looked around the Hub. “Everything shut down?”

Ianto nodded. “And everyone but us fed.”

Jack chuckled and picked his coat up from the couch, where he had laid it out earlier. He slipped it on and offered his hand to Ianto. “Ready?”

“Always,” Ianto said, taking Jack’s hand.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we come to the end of the story. I would like to thank everyone who has read and commented, and send a very warm virtual hug your way. It was never my intention for the huge gaps in between chapters, but RL is a cruel mistress and, though this was complete, my muse ran off to Middle-earth and thoroughly distracted me. I make no promises of an epilogue, but neither do I deny the possibility of one in the future. ;)

Remus awoke not long before they arrived in Cardiff. By that time, Tosh and Ianto had fallen quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Instead of breaking the silence, he watched the blurring scenery outside his window. It was his first real glance at an alien world, though perhaps 'alien' wasn't quite the proper term. He was still on Earth, albeit one completely different to his own. On the surface it seemed identical-- cars passing them as they travelled in the opposite direction, the farmland dotted with sheep, cattle and horses, and the sparse cottages and houses giving way to suburbia were a familiar comfort. It was airships that bothered him. They were something strange and unusual, setting his teeth to clenching and the wolf inside him panting pacing near the bars of his metaphorical cage. He couldn't pull his eyes from them, though, as he wondered who or what was aboard and why they were in use.

“There are some things you should know, Remus,” Ianto said quietly, frowning at Remus in the rear view mirror as they drove down streets pseudo-familiar to him. “Torchwood London’s doings may have been made public, but anything you may see here in Cardiff is classified.”

Remus rolled his eyes; he felt like he was in a James Bond film. “Of course,” he quipped sarcastically, levelling his best glower at the arm. It faded when he was taken aback by the gun clipped to the young man's belt. “I’m rather good at keeping things secret.”

Ianto nodded curtly. “If anyone found out what we are working on, it would be detrimental to Home World security.”

Remus’s eyes widened and he heard Tosh giggle. “Don’t worry,” she said, turning around in her seat to look at him with laughing eyes. “We just can’t have our equipment getting into the wrong hands.”

“People are still a bit up in arms about the incident with the Cybermen,” Ianto said softly. Remus didn’t miss the worried glance Tosh sent him. “The government isn’t helping by capitalising on it. For the past few years President Jones and her cabinet have been trying to push through legislation that would force us to make public our top secret material. Prime Minister Bush isn't helping either; lately he's lobbying for more transparency between the colonies and Britain. Unfortunately, Torchwood has become their latest scapegoat after UNIT operations in Britain gave in to their combined scrutiny.”

“And that’s bad?” Remus asked, frowning. Why did Britain have a president? And surely when Jones said the colonies, he didn't mean America. Did he? “Isn’t it in the people’s best interest to be aware of any threats to their planet?”

Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair as they stopped at a traffic light. “That’s what they claim. But like I said, it’s in the best interest of Home World security for everything to stay as it is.”

“We’ve found that out the hard way,” Tosh said and Remus watched as Ianto took her small hand in one of his own. "Some things are better off left out of the press. Otherwise it would just cause panic on a truly epic scale, and panic can be deadlier than a battalion of Daleks."

“How much further?” Remus asked, quickly changing the subject as his head started to pound again.

“Not much,” Tosh said, slipping her hand from Ianto’s. She reached into her pocket and, taking out her earwig, slipped it on. “I’ll just let them know we’re close.”

Remus half-listened to her side of a conversation with someone called Jack. He watched the city pass them by; it was comforting to know he was home once again, but he felt odd seeing the development that had taken place since he had "left." He gasped when they entered the old docklands, barely recognising the redevelopment and the tall, shining water tower dominating an oval basin. He was even more surprised when they stopped in front of the obelisk and Ianto turned off the engine.

“Is this us?” he asked, ducking down in his seat in an attempt to see the top of the tower.

“Sort of,” Tosh said, undoing her seat belt. “You won’t actually be going into the Hub. We’re meeting the rest of our team here to save a bit of time and petrol. It's still on rationing, you know.” She glanced over at the water tower and Remus followed her gaze. He did a double take when a man looking like a matinee idol and a petite, dark-skinned woman stepped off the pavement from out of nowhere.

Tosh opened her door and ran around the car, eagerly embracing both of them in turn. He heard her squeal in delighted surprise as the man lifted her, laughing himself, and spun her around. Remus couldn’t help smiling when, after setting her down, she punched his arm and he cradled it as if in pain. After hugging the other woman tightly and kissing her cheek, she turned back to the car and opened the back driver side door.

“This is Dr Martha Jones,” Tosh said, leaning into the car, “our resident medic.”

“Hello,” Martha said, smiling widely and offering Remus her hand. He took it, not really surprised by the firmness of her handshake, and she climbed into the SUV beside him. Tosh settled on her other side. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Does everyone here know who I am?” Remus asked and raised an eyebrow, looking away from her as the passenger door opened and the handsome man climbed in. He couldn’t help staring as he leaned over and shared a rather passionate kiss with Ianto.

“Nope,” Martha said, patting his arm. “Just us.”

“That’s reassuring,” Remus said, eyes dropping as the man whispered something to Ianto and kissed him again, chastely this time.

Tosh cleared her throat and the men broke apart with unapologetic looks in her direction. “And this is—“

“Captain Jack Harkness-Jones,” the man drawled with an American accent, a broad grin showing off his earily perfect teeth. After a beat, he sobered and bowed his head. “Rose told me about your partner. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, ducking his own head.

“We’ll do our damnedest to get him back,” the Captain said and turned in his seat when Ianto turned the ignition back on.

Remus nodded to himself, looking between Martha and Tosh, who was working on...was that a _computer_ built into the vehicle?

“Did Rose brief you?” the Captain asked, glancing over his shoulder at him.

Remus shook his head. “I was told I would be once I was here.”

Jack sighed and Remus, both embarrassed and jealous, looked away as he laid his hand high on Ianto’s thigh, too close to his groin to be appropriate for the workplace. The young man briefly laid his hand on Jack's before returning it to the wheel. Remus felt a hand take his and squeeze reassuringly, and tried to return Martha’s knowing smile with one of his own.

“Right, well,” Jack said with another sigh, taking his hand from Ianto’s thigh to rub at his jaw. “We’ve erected a temporary dimension cannon in Bute Park.”

“Bute Park?” Remus asked, glancing worriedly between Martha and Jack. “Won’t people, you know, see it?”

The Captain chuckled and looked over at Ianto. Remus caught the young man’s smirk in the mirror. “Not if there’s been sightings of the tiger that escaped from the zoo yesterday.”

Remus was incredulous. “There's a bloody tiger on the loose?”

“It was recovered safe and sound early this morning just outside the zoo compound,” Toshiko said, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward to look at him. “But that little titbit of information hasn’t been made public yet.”

“Shouldn’t the people be informed? I mean, it’s a _tiger_ , not a stray kitten.”

She shrugged and settled back in her seat. “For all the zoo knows, it was on the morning news and the headline in today's papers. The press, however, won’t officially be receiving anything until later this evening once we’ve successfully dismantled the cannon.”

Remus huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I really don’t want to know how you can manipulate the public that and not feel guilty.”

He rolled his eyes when Toshiko winked at him. "It's my job, and rather easy if you've got the proper equipment and the know how."

“You’ll be wearing this,” Martha said and reached back into the boot, fumbling until she pulled some sort of vest covered in wires. “This will allow us to make sure we send you to the right place at the right time. It’s perfectly harmless,” she added soothings when Remus tried scooting away from her. “It won’t electrocute you or anything.”

“All the same, just hope it isn’t raining by the time we get there,” Ianto deadpanned.

Remus sighed and reached out to touch one finger the vest as Harkness laughed and Toshiko bit her lip to unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. He touched one of the wires, gingerly running his finger along the yellow plastic coating. “Are you _sure_ it’s safe?”

“One hundred per cent,” Toshiko said. She looked up as they started to slow down and blinked owlishly. “Oh. We’re here.”

“You don’t have to sound so excited, Tosh,” Jack teased, turning in his seat to look at Remus once more.

Remus was too busy staring at the scene outside the car to hear her rebuttal. There were soldiers—everywhere—dressed in black fatigues and berets, their large black guns glinting in what little sunlight was able to filter through the gathered clouds. Jack cleared his throat, drawing him from his thoughts, as they drove through a barricade at a service road and slowly came to a stop.

He smiled when Remus looked up at him. “However, that thing’s only good for a one-way trip. You’ll need dimension jumps to get back.” He turned and opened the glove box, rummaging through it until he withdrew two of the familiar yellow buttons. He closed the glove box and opened his door, hurriedly climbing out, the others following suit.

Remus was the last out, and he could feel the chilly air tickling the whites of his eyes as he stared at his surroundings. In the distance he could see the castle rising above the white crowned tents and pavilions the soldiers had set up as a temporary base camp.

“These,” Jack said, pushing one of the jumps into his hands, “are programmed to take you back to your world. You won’t be able to use the cannon once you’re through.”

“Why not?” Remus asked, frowning at the device as his fingers automatically wrapped around it.

“It takes awhile for it to reboot, and we’re still using portable generators while the city recovers form the bombings,” Ianto said, meeting his eyes before turning to Jack and draping an arm about his shoulders.

Remus gasped, staring up at the Welshman. “Bombings?”

Jack leaned into his husband for a moment, giving him a small, sad smile before continuing down the path. “It’s nothing. It won’t happen in your world if there’s no Torchwood.”

“How do you know that?” Remus asked, hurrying after him.

“Because Torchwood is more or less to blame for it,” Ianto said, staring intently at Jack’s back. “We couldn’t have prevented it and neither did we see it coming, but it was still a result of our ignorance.”

“We lost two people,” Jack called back tersely.

“Three,” Ianto added quietly to Remus, blue eyes flitting between the two men.

Remus noticed the way Jack’s shoulders tensed for a moment before relaxing as he sighed. Ahead, he could see the standing stones coming into view.

“Merlin’s beard!” he swore, stopping as he saw a familiar configuration of mirrors, wires and generators alternating between the ancient rocks.

Jack laughed, though it sounded too dry and forced to be genuine. “That’s one way of putting it.”

As the American dismissed the soldiers standing guard around the machine, Remus came to a halt. His breath was coming in short pants, his heart pounding in his chest and pulse drumming in his ears. _This is really happening_ , he thought, and started when he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

“All right?” Martha asked, smiling brightly at him.

Remus took a deep breath and nodded. “Just a little nervous, that’s all.” He spared a glance at Toshiko as she hurried past them carrying an what looked like a thin, portable computer.

Martha nodded. “I’d be worried if you weren’t,” she said, patting his shoulder once before pulling her hand away. “C’mon. We don’t have much time to do this.”

“Let’s just get it over with,” Remus said, giving her a smile he didn’t feel and secretly feeling like he was going to be sick.

Martha smiled back and held the vest up. He slipped his arms through it, careful of the wires, and waited until Martha had it settled properly upon his torso and done up the many fastenings. He looked down at himself, feeling a bit foolish.

"You look...well, it’s a look,” she said, cocking her head to frown at the garment, though her brown eyes glittered with mirth.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he drawled sarcastically. “I hear it’s all the rage in Milan.”

Martha giggled as she slipped her arm through his. “Oh you’re quite welcome,” she said and began to lead him towards the cannon. “I hope it’s in next month’s _Vogue_. I'm dying see how well Miranda Kerr can pull it off.”

Jack and Ianto were standing a slight distance away from the device, talking quietly, hands brushing and fingers teasing but not quite entwining. Near them, Toshiko sat cross-legged on the grass, computer balanced on a knee as she typed furiously. She looked up as Martha and Remus joined them.

“Are you ready, Remus?” she asked with a small frown at the screen. “We need to move soon if we’re going to do this today.”

Remus took a deep, steadying breath and, looking at each member of Torchwood in turn, said, “Let's do this.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said with a salute, stepping away from Ianto. He slipped the other dimension jump over Remus’s head. “Like I said, the vest is only good one way. These are for you to get home.” He paused and waited until Remus nodded. “You’ll need to destroy them and the vest once you’re safe.”

“Why?” Remus asked, slightly taken aback. He looked between the American and his husband.

“They’re not meant for your world,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “Plus, if everything goes according to plan, the walls of the universes will be sealed again. Travel between them will be impossible, and they’ll be rendered useless.”

Remus nodded, watching Ianto as he stepped forward. “This,” the man said, holding up a strange looking watch, “will correspond to local time. You need to be gone by eight a.m.”

“What happens at eight?” Remus asked, turning his wrist over so Ianto could fasten the watch.

The team was silent until Jack spoke. “The end of the world.”

“Ah,” Remus said, looking at the watch as Ianto finished with it. It read 19:43 in blinking red numbers.

Toshiko stood with a grunt, trying to keep her computer balanced. “Your ETA is seven a.m. on 28 June 2008. You’ll need to find Sirius and activate the jumps as quickly as possible. If I’m right—“

“—and she usually is,” Jack interrupted quickly, grinning proudly.

Tosh rolled her eyes as a pretty blush bloomed along her cheekbones. “Thank you, Jack. As I was saying, if I’m right, the cannon’s temporal disruption should register on Torchwood’s Rift monitor. Wait in the park for them to arrive. Something that size is a priority, and they should be there promptly. Find a way for them to get you to Sirius as quickly as possible.”

Remus frowned. “Won’t they think I’m a threat?”

Jack cleared his throat and took an envelope from his coat pocket. He handed it to Remus. “Give this to my counterpart if you encounter any problems. He’ll understand once he’s read it.”

“Just make sure he does,” Ianto added with a wry smile. “If they’re anything alike, he’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Just ask Former President Blair.”

Remus laughed nervously at Jack’s shout of "How many times do I have to tell you it was an case of mistaken identity?"

“So,” Martha said and rolled her eyes as Jack pretended to pout. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a sigh. Looking each of the Torchwood team in the eye, he smiled and added, “I can’t thank you enough. You don’t even know me, yet you’ve done as much for me as my best mates.”

Jack dipped his head, his blue eyes soft. “It’s our job,” he said quietly. Remus felt a pang in his heart as he saw him take Ianto’s hand and cling to it with white knuckles. "I couldn't imagine being separated from Ianto. I'd do anything I could to get him back."

“You’re quite welcome,” Toshiko said, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “If you’re ready, just step into the middle of the circle.”

Remus turned towards the mirror and stones. He took a breath to steady himself and, gathering his wits, walked into it. He stopped and turned back to face the team. Their grimly hopeful faces were the last things he saw as the very air around him began to tingle and he disappeared in a flash of white light.

***

Sirius awoke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He groaned and turned into the back of the couch.

“Don't wanna. Five more minutes, Moony,” he muttered and flapped his hand at them.

He stilled when he heard Jones chuckle. “That’s not an option,” he said quietly and shook a final time. “There’s been a Rift spike in Bute Park.”

Sirius groaned and turned onto his back to glare up at Jones. “What time is it?”

“Just past seven,” Jones said, smiling slightly. He was already impeccably dressed in a pinstriped suit, matching waistcoat, pink shirt and a black tie with diagonal pink and yellow stripes.

“It’s too early,” Sirius said, nevertheless starting to sit up.

“Just wait until your first three a.m. call,” Jones said, offering Sirius his hand. “Those are especially lovely after going to bed at midnight.”

Sirius took it and let the man pull him up. With a yawn, he squinted as he looked around the dark flat. “Where’s Hark--Jack?”

“He went to get the SUV and pick up Gwen,” Jones said and checked his watch. “Hurry and get dressed. We need to get moving.”

Sirius did as he was told, grumbling all the way to the bathroom. After using the loo and brushing his teeth, he threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from one of the shopping bags he had yet to sort through. Slipping on a pair of combat boots, he stumbled back into the front room, still half-asleep. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Jones as he stared out the window.

“What time did you get in last night?” he asked, crossing to the window. He didn’t look at Jones, just stared over his shoulder and into the street below.

“Late,” Jones said, pushing away as the SUV rounded the corner and grabbed his keys from atop one of cardboard boxes. “You were already asleep.” He threw a glance back at Sirius and smiled. “Ready for your first field mission?”

Sirius nodded warily and made sure he had his wand. Its length and weight in his pocket was comforting. “Yep.”

“Good,” Jones said, smiling slightly. Sirius followed him out the door, halting as Jones quickly locked it behind them. Instead of waiting for the recently repaired lift, they took the stairs, Sirius hurrying to keep up as Jones descended them at a near run.

Sirius swore as he hit his hand on the frame of the stairwell door as he rushed out behind him, trying to keep up. He had barely managed to get himself settled in the car, his door not even completely closed, before Harkness took off again in a squeal of tyres accompanied by the stench of burning rubber.

“Good morning,” Cooper called from the front seat. Sirius did a double take when he saw her hastily oiling her gun.

“Morning,” he rasped around the lump in his throat. Trying to swallow around it, he looked at Jones out the corner of his eye; the young man was typing furiously on one of the computer consoles.

“The energy readings don’t seem to be fluctuating,” he said, glancing up at the back of Cooper and Harkness’s heads momentarily.

Harkness made a noncommittal noise. “That’s good, I guess.”

“So, what are we thinking?” Cooper asked, and the excitement was clear in her voice. “Judoon?”

“They’re restricted from setting foot on the planet,” Harkness said. Sirius swore under his breath as he took a turn too sharply and one tyre went up on the kerb.

“Besides, there’s not been reports of any known fugitives in the area,” Jones said, not looking up as he typed something into the computer. “There’s nothing for the Shadow Proclamation to involve themselves in.”

Sirius hastily did up his seat belt and slumped down in his seat. It wasn’t even seven-thirty and already a familiar throbbing was beginning behind his temples.

“Do you think we’ll need special weapons?” Cooper asked, glancing over at Harkness as she put the gun back together, slid in the loaded clip and racked it.

“The big gun’s in the boot,” Harkness said. Sirius caught the cheeky wink he sent to Jones in the rear view mirror.

Cooper sighed as they turned onto a service road leading into Bute Park, and Sirius’s jaw dropped when the woman turned in the seat and held the gun out to him.

“Here. In case you need it,” she said, her voice as cold as the eyes boring into his.

Sirius took it dumbly, turning it over in his hands. “I’ve got my wand.”

“Still,” she said with a shrug. “Just in case. We can’t be sure magic will work on non-humanoid, non-terrestrial life forms.”

Sirius sighed, conceding her point. He hadn’t thought about that. He grimaced as Harkness came to sudden stop, the seat belt pulling tightly against his chest, and killed the ignition.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing around the SUV at them. His eyes lingered a minute on Jones, a look Sirius couldn’t quite name coming over his face. After a moment, he nodded. “All right. Ianto, you’re with me. Sirius, stay close to Gwen.”

Sirius hesitated as they all started to climb from the vehicle. He fumbled with his seat belt, momentarily tangling himself in it in his haste to get out. His heart aching and his stomach rolling with both dread and adrenalin, he joined Harkness, Jones and Cooper by a copse of trees. He stood next to Cooper, trying to smile at her when she laid a hand on his back, rubbing it in reassurance.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling her gap-toothed grin at him. “You’ll do fine.”

“Don’t jinx me,” Sirius said, again trying for a smile. He felt like he was going to be sick; he hadn’t been this nervous on his first mission for the Order or even during MLE basic training. Maybe it was the gun, heavy and cold, still clutched loosely in his hand.

“You two go right,” Harkness said, pointing past them. “Ianto and I’ll go left. We’ll meet up on the other side once we've swept the area.”

Beside Sirius, Cooper nodded. She turned to look at Ianto, who was holding the same small device he had been the night Sirius arrived. “Any idea what it is?”

Jones looked up at her and nodded curtly. “It appears to be humanoid, but we’re getting some funny energy readings.”

“Funny how?” the woman asked and Sirius’s heart began to pound furiously and his palms to sweat.

“Off the charts,” Jones said, frowning and quizzically regarding Sirius from the corner of his eye.

Harkness sighed and pulled his revolver. Checking the cylinder was loaded, he cocked it and said, “Don’t take any chances. Do what you have to in order to apprehend or recover whatever it is if possible.”

“Do we need stun guns?” Cooper asked and glanced between the trees and their target. Sirius followed her gaze; he could make out a solitary figure sitting at the base of one of the standing stones.

“There’re two in the boot,” Jones was saying. Sirius watched as he moved back to the SUV and, opening the boot, methodically searched through it. After a moment, he slammed it shut and walked back over to the group, two strange looking yellow guns in his hands. He handed one to Gwen and tucked to other into his jacket pocket. Sirius started as he held his palm out to him, a tiny comm device resting in it.

“It’s an earwig,” he said as Sirius hesitantly took it between thumb and forefinger. “You’ll be needing it.”

He looked over at Gwen hesitantly. She smiled tensely and nodded to it. “You just place it in your ear like so.” She pulled her hair back and pointed to her own. Letting it fall back in place, she pointed to the button on the device in Sirius’s hand. “You press that if you want to talk to us, but the channel’s always open when we’re in the field.”

Sirius stared at the device for a moment longer before slipping it into his right ear. He winced when he pulled his hand away; it felt weird and the shrill whistling it made as it came on was worse than feedback from Muggle microphones.

He heard Harkness try to cover his chuckle by clearing his throat and looked up at him through his fringe. The man was staring into the clearing where the person was sitting, his brow furrowed but his eyes alight with mischief. “On three?”

“Right,” Cooper said, voice resolved. She pulled her gun and cocked it; Harkness and Jones did the same. Sirius didn’t hesitate to pull his wand and tuck his gun into his back pocket. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, the warmth of the wood a comfort compared to the chill of the gun.

Harkness counted to three and Sirius followed Cooper as Harkness and Jones went the opposite way.

“Stay close,” she whispered, glancing back at him to meet his eyes.

Sirius nodded, covering her as they stealthily made their way towards a better vantage point. He occasionally cringed as his boots trod too heavily on stray twigs and leaves. He wished he’d worn trainers like Cooper or work boots like Harkness, though he didn’t envy Jones in his polished dress shoes one bit.

He was snapped from his musings when he stumbled into Cooper.

“Careful,” she hissed, reaching out to steady him.

“Sorry,” Sirius whispered and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. What was wrong with him? He was usually more alert, more attentive to his surroundings and footfalls when in the field! He was acting like a nervous recruit straight out of Hogwarts!

“Don’t worry about it,” Cooper said with a smile. She pulled him down beside her as she crouched in the brush. “My first mission I released an gaseous alien that ended up possessing a woman and fed off her sexual partners’ orgasmic energy.”

Sirius bit back a guffaw. “Seriously?”

Cooper made a face and he had to redouble his efforts not to laugh. “You think I could make shit like that up?” she asked and punched his arm as an undignified snort escaped him. “It’s not that funny.”

“Yes it is,” Sirius said, trying to calm himself and focus.

“People died.” She sighed and turned to look through the trees and undergrowth at their target. “Jack, we’ve got eyes on the target. He appears to be a human male, dark blonde or light brown hair, approximately early to mid twenties. It looks like...it looks like he's wearing a vest wired for explosives.”

Sirius heard Harkness’s voice coming though his own earwig, but he had ceased listening, his heart ceasing to beat for a second before jumping into his throat as he followed Cooper’s line of sight. The man they were trailing —for indeed it was a humanoid male, not an alien that was clear now—looked up, and Sirius gasped when he saw a familiar pair of hazel eyes looking his way. It couldn’t be...could it? Were his eyes deceiving him? It couldn’t him be, could it? He was supposed to be safe at home with James, Lily and Peter!

“We’ll double back and give you support,” he heard Jones say, lifting the thrall he had found himself under. “Don’t do anything hasty, Gwen.”

“I could say the same." Sirius heard the disconcerting echo of her voice echo down his comm as he made his decision. As surreptitiously as he could manage, he pointed his wand at the woman and sent up a prayer for forgiveness.

However, Cooper caught the movement and turned her wide green eyes on him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, glaring at him, and beginning to raise her gun.

“Going home,” Sirius whispered. “Stupefy!”

Sirius caught Cooper as she collapsed in a flash of bright red light. He gently lay her down in the brush and took her gun. He quickly ejected the magazine and removed the chambered round before taking his own gun from his pocket. He laid them both down next to her along with his comm and, leaning down, pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. Tell Jack and Ianto thank you for me.”

He stood as he heard Harkness and Jones approach. He glanced back at Cooper one final time and felt his heart drop. He had come to care for these people in the short time he had known them, even if they were as alien to him as the weevils were to them. He would miss them...to a point. This wasn’t his world, and neither did he belong here. He smiled as he gazed at the man in the clearing, now standing with his wand drawn and beckoning to him. He didn’t hesitate as he began to run towards him, ignoring Jones and Harkness’s shouts.

“Moony!” he cried as he stumbled through the brush, though he quickly regained his footing, and smiled as the man started to run towards him.

“Sirius!” Remus called back and threw his arms out as they neared each other. Sirius felt tears well in his eyes as they collided and fell in a tangle of limbs to rest upon the damp, dewy grass. He pressed their lips together, tongue quickly granted access to Remus’s warm mouth, and ran his fingers through soft, familiar brown hair while tongues and teeth duelled and clacked in their desperation.

“Oh my god! Remus!” Sirius whispered, breaking apart. Remus’s hands automatically settled on his hips, the golden flecks in his eyes glittering in the early morning sunshine. Sirius let his eyes wander down his lover’s body, taking in everything. He frowned as he noticed the strange wires attached to his clothes and shifted his weight to one arm to poke at them. “How’d you do it?”

Remus, however, checked a watch Sirius had never seen before. His eyes were wide and his breathing heavy, urgency in his voice as he said, “Sirius, we need to get going. Now.”

“Please, Remus,” he asked, one hand curling in the wires. “Please, tell me it’s really you.”

Remus’s face softened with a loving smile that did nothing to disguise the tension settled at the corners of eyes and mouth. “I’m here to take you home, Padfoot, but we need to leave now.”

Sirius nodded. “But how?”

“Let’s just say I had little help from Dumbledore and a lot more from the big, bad wolf,” Remus said, tilting his head back as Harkness shouted again, this time for an unresponsive Cooper. Sirius followed his gaze and saw Jones, eyes and run trained on Remus, starting to close in on them.

“I trust you,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to Remus’s once more.

Remus arched beneath him and freed his hands, pushing him back slightly. Sirius frowned when they broke apart and Remus slipped a large, circular device hanging from a thin chain over his neck.

“What’s this?” he asked, fingering it with a frown. His eyes were glued to the identical device around Remus’s neck

“Our ticket home,” Remus said and smacked Sirius’s hand away. Before he could do anything to retaliate, Remus pressed the yellow button on both of their devices. Sirius clung tightly to him as they disappeared, eyes and mouth tightly shut. When they jolted to a stop, the world reappearing around them and struggling to regain their breath, night had fallen once more.

Above them was a waxing moon, and Remus was a comfortable, welcome pillow beneath him. After a moment, Sirius rolled off him and flopped onto the grass. He reached for Remus’s hand, grasping it as if it was the only thing keeping him from being sucked back through the Void. Remus grasped back just as tightly as a shadow fell over them. When Sirius opened his eyes, it was to see James, Peter and Dumbledore grinning down at them.

“Welcome home, Mr Black,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. “Welcome home.”

“And if you ever try a stupid bloody stunt like that again,” James ranted as he helped him to his feet, “I swear I’ll bloody kill you myself!”

“I missed you too, Prongs,” Sirius said and let James pull him into a suffocating embrace, his head falling onto his friend’s shoulder. He held out his arm to Peter, pulling him into their hold before he could protest. James adjusted his own, and Sirius sighed as Remus’s hand came to rest at the small of his back. He turned his head, resting his temple on the point of James’s shoulder, and stared into the hazel eyes of the man he loved more than he loved himself. He unwrapped his left arm from James’s middle to pull Remus flush against his side, his hand straying beneath vest and shirt to settle onto the warm curve of his hip. Maybe one day, if their world moved at same pace as Torchwood’s, he would have the official honour of calling him his husband. Until then, he would be content to call himself lucky enough have Remus at his side and hold his heart close to his own. “I’m glad to be home.”

 

***

“Shit!” Jack shouted as Sirius and the man vanished.

“My sentiments exactly,” Ianto drawled, slowing as he neared the spot the men had just occupied. He held up the scanner and ran it over the area. “Jack? I’m still getting those strange readings we did when Black came through.”

“It’s probably magical energy. Some of it may be residual,” Jack’s voice sounded through the comm. “They didn’t leave via the Rift, did they?”

Ianto sighed and stared at the device in his hand. “No. It’s the same readings Torchwood London attributed to the Doctor at Canary Wharf.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and Ianto looked up as he emerged from the tree line. He reached up and disabled his comm as he approached. “Gwen’s not responding,” he said, worried, as he laid a hand on Ianto’s shoulder.

Ianto pressed a few buttons, shifting from one window to another on the scanner. A schematic of their surroundings appeared, three tiny human-sized blobs identifying their life signs.

“Over there,” he said and fell into step with Jack as they ran towards Gwen’s position.

Ianto’s heart leapt into his throat when they reached her. She was lying in the grass, skin pale and eyes wide and terrified as her chest heaved with each frantic breath. He felt the device slip from his palm as Jack fell to his knees beside her.

“Gwen?” he asked, half-shouting, and brushed her fringe from her eyes. “Gwen? Can you hear me?”

Gwen groaned and with great effort turned her head to look at him. “Could...could you be any louder? They can hear you in Swansea.”

Jack chuckled nervously and helped her into a sitting position. Ianto’s knees gave out when she gave him a small if pained smile.

“Are you all right?” he asked when he found his voice.

Gwen made a noncommittal noise and held a hand to her head. “My head hurts a little, but I’m fine, I guess. I think...I think it was just a stunning spell. It was kind of like being on the receiving end of a stun gun.” She winced. “Or a battering ram.”

Ianto smiled, relieved. There had been enough loss; he wasn’t ready to lose Gwen yet. He looked up when he felt Jack’s eyes on him, meeting them. He sighed after a moment and nodded at the unspoken question in them. He stood, brushing his trousers off. He watched as Jack helped Gwen to her feet, and he buried his face in her hair when she hugged him tightly.

Ianto only let her go when he felt Jack’s hand on his back.

“Let’s head back to the Hub. I don’t think we’re going to find anything more here,” Jack said, pressing a kiss first to Gwen’s temple then to the corner of Ianto’s mouth.

“Where’s Sirius?” Gwen asked, beginning to walk back towards the SUV.

“Gone,” Jack said with resolute finality. “Are there any CCTV cameras in the area?”

“I can check back at the Hub,” Ianto said quietly. Ahead of them, Gwen trudged on.

He paused when Jack sighed heavily, waiting for him to fall into step. “You all right?” he asked quietly.

Ianto’s lips curved upward with a tiny smile, leaning forward, pressed a chaste kiss to Jack’s lips. “I’m fine,” he whispered and, reaching down, took Jack’s hand. “I thought for a moment there....”

“I know. Me too,” Jack said, voice breaking. He cleared his throat and let Ianto lead him to the SUV.

Ianto sighed and slowed. He leaned into Jack when he let go of his hand to wrap an arm around his waist.

“If I could find a way to keep you both safe, I would,” he said quietly, not looking at him.

“We’d never let you,” Ianto said, determinedly and regarded him with one fond eyebrow inching upwards. “You’re stuck with us.”

“That’s not so bad,” Jack said, pulling his closer. For a moment, Ianto laid his head on Jack’s shoulder, revelling in the stolen moment of closeness. They reluctantly pulled apart when the SUV came into view.

Gwen leant against it, hands in her pockets. She was still too pale, Ianto thought, and she smiled wanly when she saw them.

“Ready to head back?”

“Yep,” Jack said, taking the keys from his pocket. He unlocked the SUV and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat. Gwen smiled slightly at Ianto, her eyes softening, and pressed a kiss to his cheek before opening passenger door for him. Ianto sighed, grateful, and got in. The car was in motion almost as soon as Gwen climbed in and both had done up their seat belts.

“Care to tell us what happened back there, Gwen?” Jack asked as they turned around and headed back the way they came.

Ianto heard Gwen mutter something indistinct under her breath and the leather of the seat protest as she tucked a leg underneath herself.

“He seemed nervous, but that’s to be expected first time out,” she said sullenly. “I tried to reassure him, but he caught sight of the person we were moving in on. He recognised him, I think, pulled his wand and shouted ‘stupefy,’ and next thing I know I’m on the ground and can’t move to save my life. Again. Sirius said he was going home. I should have stopped him.”

“You did what you could,” Jack said, navigating back onto the main road. “So, the man in the park. Am I the only one thinking it was Lupin?”

“It’s possible,” Ianto said, frowning. “But how would he have got the technology to get here?”

“If the wizards had a way to get him back using magic they would have done it by now,” Gwen said.

“Maybe it has something to do with the bees disappearing,” Jack tried, looking over at Ianto.

“Perhaps, though I blame the rampant overuse of pesticides for that,” Ianto said. “Or maybe he’s got friends. That technology was either alien or Torchwood.”

“Or one in the same,” Gwen added. “What sort of tech was it?”

“Dimension jumps,” Jack said quietly. Ianto and Gwen looked at him, startled.

“Do you remember Rose Tyler?” he added, quickly glancing at Ianto. Ianto nodded and laid his hand on Jack’s thigh. “According to the Doctor, her parallel version of Torchwood, led by a resistance group known as the Preachers, invented them to get from one universe to another and find out what was in the Void ship London had.”

“They followed the Cybermen through then,” Ianto said emotionlessly. Jack laid his hand on top of his when he squeezed his thigh too tightly.

“They were trying to help the Doctor back then. Their world has almost been destroyed by the Cybermen too,” Jack reassured. “I guess they were helping Lupin get his partner back too.”

“Parallel worlds?” Gwen asked, slightly in awe. “I thought they were sealed off.”

“So did I,” Jack said, barely audible over the hum of the motor.

They spent the rest of drive back to the Hub in silence. When they arrived, Gwen went straight to the medical bay while Ianto and Jack headed up to the main level. As Ianto woke up Tosh’s computer, he could hear Gwen banging around as she searched for something. Jack chuckled when her triumphant shout drifted up to them.

“Pull up the CCTV,” Jack said as soon as the computer came back to life, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

As he searched for the appropriate feed, Gwen came up from the med bay. In her hand was a bottle of paracetamol. She set it on her desk as she passed it and moved to stand beside Jack, watching over his shoulder as Ianto pulled up a grainy CCTV for Bute Park. She and Jack watched as he zoomed in, the area they had been minutes ago barely visible, and sifted through the backlog of video until he found the moment Black had burst into the clearing and ran towards the man.

“Can you zoom in any more?” she asked, shifting from foot to foot. She sighed when Ianto did, but it wasn’t much help; the quality was poor, the image too pixelated to be helpful, and the early morning light too feeble.

“What about facial recognition?” Jack asked, unfolding his arms. He laid a hand on Ianto’s shoulder as the young man shook his head.

“The image isn’t that great,” he said, turning to face them. “Plus, it’s too dark to get a decent look at his face.”

“So we don’t know if it’s Lupin or not?” Gwen asked.

“I guess there’s no way to be sure. But, we can only assume that’s what Black meant by ‘home.’” Jack paused and stared at the screen, the image of Black and the man embracing passionately frozen on screen. He looked down at his boots and squeezed Ianto’s shoulder. “Anyway, he’s not our concern any more.”

“So that’s it then?” Gwen asked, looking between her teammates. “To be honest, I’m going to miss him. He was cute in a little lost puppy sort of way.”

“Yeah,” Jack said absently. With a final squeeze, he took his hand from Ianto’s shoulder and stepped away from the desk. He looked between Ianto and Gwen and gave them a small smile. “Right. I guess it’s time we got back to work. Gwen, I want those police reports on my desk before lunch. Ianto, that file isn’t going to translate itself.”

“I wish it would,” Ianto deadpanned. “It’d save me a migraine.”

“Well, Gwen’s got the Panadol,” Jack said, chuckling when Ianto rolled his eyes. “You two kids have fun. I’ve got paperwork to do.”

Gwen giggled as he made a face and headed into his office. To Ianto, she said, “Why does he get to do all the fun stuff?”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you were knocked out?” Ianto asked, hiding a smile as he turned back to the computer.

“You’re not funny,” Gwen said, but she shot him a smile nonetheless. “So, when are you and Jack moving in?”

“We’re meeting with the estate agent Monday to sign the papers,” he said, smiling shyly at her.

“Let me know how it goes, yeah? We can celebrate afterwards,” Gwen said and wrapped him in a tight hug. “First round’s on me.”

Before Ianto could think of a response, he and Gwen were thrown to the floor as the Earth began to move.


End file.
